1 in 73
by BellexReve
Summary: Khan Noonien Singh's shadow reaches over the Enterprise when an abandoned vessel is discovered- the only occupant, a young woman in a cryotube. McCoy and Kirk find out Khan's blood has serious effects, ones that may even transform the captain into someone else. This woman may be their only chance to save Kirk from a strange, twisted fate- but where do her loyalties lie? (Alt. time)
1. Chapter One, Weaving Stage V

_**1 in 73**_

**Weaving Stage V: Waking  
>Chapter One<strong>

Bright light shot like lightning across my eyelids, dark blue and yellow blots tattooing the darkness.

Hushed and rushed voices.

Beneath me, something cold and firm like metal.

Heart pounding so loudly.

The feeling of cold ice piercing my temples.

Muscles whimpering with too much electricity.

I opened my eyes, but through my migraine aura I could only make out shadow people bending over me, away from me, moving to the side and whispering.

Trying to sit up, I felt some type of restraints tug at my wrists.

"...the fact that only _one_would be..."

"...saw it with my _own__eyes_, Helen! Are you calling me-"

"Listen, with no contact, we can't..."

"-Help-" I tried to shout to the shadows congregating around me but my voice was tight, coming out as weakly as a puff of smoke.

The strangers stopped talking immediately.

One of them turned to face me.

Apparently a puff of smoke was still enough of a sign to catch their attention.

"I'm contacting the admiral."

"You're reaching above yourself, Commander. _I_will...contact the admiral."

"Jim! This is still _my_patient, damn it!"

Things were growing clearer.

My eyes adjusted to the painful lights: some people left the room through automatic doors and a dark-haired man was looking at me with a strange expression.

"What-?" I tried again, when images slowly bobbed up to the rhythm of a blinding headache.

A grainy screen.

Flames, licking orange and red.

_Flames?_

"Still have that headache?" The strange man had moved closer to my bedside. He was dressed in a foreign uniform and reaching towards me with an instrument that looked like a small ear thermometer.

I jerked from his touch- and a static-like shock reminded me I was shackled.

"It's alright, I'm a doctor," He assured me, pointing to the logo on his uniform. The symbol meant nothing to me.

"What does _that_ do?" I asked, looking at the tool in his hand. I could still feel my voice box over-stretch just to speak.

"This? It's an injection to help the compound migraine. Your heart rate is pretty high so I'm giving you another one for your blood pressure and something for your sore throat." I felt myself tense as he pressed the instrument to my neck. There was a quick pop- something like a flick against my skin. "...And there you go."

His accent!

"You're American?" I eagerly asked.

"Born and bred," the doctor replied without looking up from his gadget.

"The south?"

He gave me a strange look of surprise, then smiled.

"And _you're_from the west."

I nodded, looking down at the strange handcuffs that restrained me to the bed: bright blue light encircling my wrists, latched to some device on the sides of the bed.

"I'm Dr. McCoy. You're safe, this is- like the surgery. Do you know where you are, Miss Averly?" He adjusted my bed so I was sitting up.

"How do you know that name?" I demanded angrily, though I was angrier at the tears that pricked my eyes. "From your _sick_research? Or the people you've had here before me?"

"Easy there-" Dr. McCoy put a hand on my arm. "No one here wants to hurt you."

I looked at him- scoffingly, at first.

But I saw a glimmer, a glimmer of something that was soft and hard at the same time.

_Kindness._

_Mercy._

_Gentleness ._

I focused on the feeling of his touch: _  
><em>_No-nonsense. Clever. Professional yet personal._

_Sensitive but guarded possible loss of spouse? Kind, firm bedside manner._

Trustworthy.

My mind seemed to blur like an old camera.

_Kind - trustworthy__- ?_ that didn't sound right.

" _Why_am I handcuffed?" I asked, taking a rattling breath to reign in my emotions.

"Well, you have some pretty violent associates, Miss Averly."

"Don't call me that!" I spat, then, remembering his reading, I sighed and explained more gently, "My name is Wrenne."

Dr. McCoy gave me another strange look of surprise- he certainly did have a lot of those expressions. "You're not Sylene Averly?" He asked, leaning back in his seat.

"...that's my mother's name," I explained reluctantly. "...and I don't have _anything_to do with the Prometheus Project _or_the Botany Bay Recovery- please, just listen to me-" I tried to lean in but the restraints wouldn't let me- so I reached out with my emotions. "-it looks like you're under the misconception that I'm valuable. _I'm not valuable ._There's _no_ransom coming. Unless you're low on books or medical staff, there's nothing I could even offer-" McCoy opened his mouth to speak but I wasn't about to give him the chance- "Doctor, we're _countrymen_." Damn those stinging tears. "...we need to stick together."

"Bones..."

McCoy turned around, facing a man with dark-blond hair and soft eyes that flashed in a fascinating fashion. There was that uniform again- but this one, golden-colored. A white haired woman in the same outfit hurried to stand beside him.

"If Subject 73 is conscious, we do _not_-," She began, but the blond man interrupted her with a great deal of irritation- his eyes flicking from soft to fiery:

" _Commander Litige__._"

She blushed, pursing her lips and clutching her hands behind her back.

"Dammit, Helen, this is _still my patient!_" McCoy snapped up from his chair, his authority falling into proper place as if it were his shadow.

"Bones," The blond man sounded exasperated as he rubbed a thumb up the bridge of his nose.

"No, Jim! If _she_thinks we're just sitting back and spinning yarns while the rest of the ship is running around like a chicken with its head cut off, then _she_doesn't have her head on straight!" McCoy stood across from the woman, Litige. "With all due respect to _your_station, you _must observe mine_."

"...you're right, I'm sorry, Leonard," She sighed, running a hand over her eyes. "I'm sorry, Captain...I'm just- exhausted, we're all...we're-."

"Shock and trauma," McCoy nodded, his anger reeling back politely as he allowed compassion's tide to flood it over.

"No need to explain it to us, _we_were on the ship with him," the captain exchanged a glance with McCoy. "Commander, why don't you go ahead and take leave for the rest of your shift. Get some sleep."

"I'd make that an order," the doctor added. "You've been running yourself ragged, Helen. Let me give you something to help you sleep…"

McCoy glanced back at me, and with a jolt I remembered I was a part of this scene. "Commander, Captain- this is Wrenne Averly."

Neither of them spoke- the commander or the captain. They just stared at me in that way you see someone without really seeing at all; as if I were some fish in a bowl.

Or a grotesque exhibit.

Anger, fear, anger, fear, confusion, anger, fear, ang- no use, I thought. I was too upset to distinguish my emotions from theirs, or from anyone else.

"Wrenne, this is Commander Litige, and this is the captain of our sh-" The instant McCoy mentioned her name, Litige turned on her heel and left. "For hell's sake, Helen! Wait- let me get you that medication!"

My stomach constricted with a sharp coldness as he left- this, the only man I remotely knew. The only tie to some type of humanity among my kidnappers. The tense silence between the captain and me only fed my panic.

"So...Sylene _isn't_your name."

We were both prickled all over. That much I could read.

While I _did_ feel so guarded, so tensed and afraid, separately, I felt a strange sense of wonder from running into two other Americans.

Such different emotional threads weaving together created a disturbingly detailed, surreal tint to the scene.

"No, it isn't my name," I replied tersely.

"Well you went to a lot of trouble to make us think otherwise."  
>"Maybe you should have just <em>asked<em>me my name and I could've cleared the whole thing up for you," I answered sarcastically.

"I thought I'd give it the personal touch and wait for you to wake up."

"Personal touch, right, that's great. Everyone _loves_a personal touch to a kidnapping."

" _Kidnapping?_" The captain furrowed his brow, his boyish eyes lightening with surprise. "Did you...have a place in mind where you wanted to wake up?" An incredulous smile crept up his lips.

_Tongue-in-cheek._

_Confident._

_Over-confident._

"Don't you trivialize this, you son of a bitch!" I snapped, jerking forward, feeling my cheeks flush with indignation and anxiety while the restraints seemed to further constrict my wrists as if they were preparing to digest my body whole. "You are _stealing_a person's life! The existence of one of your _own_countrymen! Do you _understand_that? Do you _really?_"

"Miss Averly, you are in no danger- I promise you that," the captain leaned forward and while my instincts pushed me to interrupt, the bright shine of sincerity in his voice shocked me into silence. "You are on the USS Enterprise. I'm Captain James Kirk. Bones- our head medical officer," He corrected himself. "...he estimates that you've been in suspended animation for over two hundred years. We ran into your vessel floating adrift and your cryotube was inside."

I felt my breathing. I felt the walls constrict like the cuffs on my wrists. My heartbeat became

impossible to ignore- fluttering between palpitations and a cold stillness.

_It's a trick._

"The date is 2263.20-"

_No, please- !__  
><em>I hunched over, my psyche twisting into a form too large and painful for my body.

"-which makes it between 263 years and 283. It's difficult to pinpoint the exact time since-"

" _Stop! Stop it, stop!_" I heard my own voice and I was screaming. I was still hunched over. I saw my lap, dressed in some kind of scrubs made of a foreign material. I felt hot tears. I felt my cheeks fired with emotion.

I was repeating myself- "Stop," over and over, my voice softening with each repetition. I couldn't silence myself, I couldn't change the words. I was rocking back and forth as much as the restraints would allow me.

Too fast.

Too fast.

It was all too fast.

I heard voices around me- my senses functioning in a detached mode, separate from my sense of self and emotion.

"Miss-," The captain, holding back his concern, trying to hold to some calm and extend it to me. "Wrenne? Wrenne, it's alright-_Wrenne_,_look at me,_look me in the eye- it's alright, you're going to be alright-."

"Jim! Jim, what the hell-?" The doctor. He snapped quickly into a professional tone. I saw a hand placed on my knee. Masculine, bulging around the knuckles. Dark hair dotting his fingers.

"Wrenne. Wrenne, I want you to listen carefully to my- Spock-! Get out of here, we need less-!"

And then a tide rolled in, steadily and naturally like a straight line.

I could feel it, like gentle cold on a burn.

The vice loosened.

I straightened, looking to the source of relief as if it were as obvious as a candle in the dark.

A tall man- taller than the captain and the doctor.

Black hair and high, elegant cheekbones.

Pointed ears.

Eyes the firm calm of steel gray snow.

He reached out his hand, cupping mine in his. Carefully running his thumb down my palm to the pulse at my wrist, then back up to the center of my hand.

_You are safe._

No- no I'm not-!

_You are safe ._

I never- I never thought they'd _do_it, _never_- they could've killed me- why didn't they just kill me!

_You are safe. Do not fight the current. It will take you to a gentle pond._

And only then I realized I was staring into his eyes- steel gray snow and ice and calm.

I felt that natural wilting- that relieving, natural wilting of a body relaxing into the embrace of rest.

As I sunk into the lapping rhythm of the stream,

I saw something glisten in his eyes-

Something I hadn't noticed-

Something I wouldn't have expected to be there, in those eyes of steel, solid snow:

a meteor shower

fiery and passionate,

but cropped small into the background.

A meteor shower.

A meteor shower upon a field of steel snow.

And then I felt my surroundings bob away, gently, naturally-  
><em>guided.<em>


	2. Chapter Two, Weaving Stage VI

_**{ Weaving Stage VI: Reconnaissance & Interrogation }**_

"She was unaware."

Silence.

"...Are you _out of your Vulcan mind?_ For hell's sake, Spock-! How could you cryogenically _freeze_ someone in the_ 21st century_ without them knowing? It'd be like- like a woman in the Stone Age getting a kidney transplant and being _'unaware'_ of it-!"

"Spock, how can you be sure?"

"I calmed her mind and she called out to me."

"Oh for the love of-"

"Bones, come on."

"I'm just-

"She must have a high level of intelligence and psychic ability, most likely an effect of augmentation."

"So you've never met-?"

"I have _never_ met a human with such empathic sensitivity and mental articulation."

I recognized Dr. McCoy's voice:

"Her blood_ is_ strange, similar to his-"

_His?_

"-obviously I can't exactly compare them side by side, but her DNA has a considerable amount of flaws while his was..._mechanical_ in its perfection, even so, we're probably dealing with the same type of person..."

_Holy shit, they're experimenting on me..._

"What were the dates again?"

Spock- "I estimate she was suspended between 2006.268 and 2012.60."

_What the hell does that mean?_

"At least two and a half centuries!"

My brow twitched and I felt my breath catch in my chest.  
>Telling my body to relax, to mimic sleep, seemed to only prompt my nerves to spur randomly.<p>

But maybe they wouldn't notice.

This is where I am. _This._

Despair was a cold clamping around my core.

Dizzy.

I'd been waiting to hear their plan- what they're going to do with me.  
>If they're <em>not<em> involved in the war or the project- why would they have me handcuffed? Why was I being treated like a criminal-?

"_At least two and a half centuries!"_

Unless history was speaking for me.

Crying from the rooftops a history unknown to me.

I opened my eyes despite the coiling urge to hide.

"Excuse me."

Some hours had passed since I had last eavesdropped via feigning sleep- the captain was gone, so was the elven man and McCoy. Three men and one woman in red uniforms stood on either side of the door across from the my bed.

They stared at me with wide eyes- one crossed his arms defensively, flexing his biceps.

"Excuse me," I repeated. "Can I- can I speak to…"

Who?

Who would you talk to?

The captain who had you handcuffed?

The doctor who was testing and examining your blood?

The elven man- the one you know the least about?

Place your bets.

But I couldn't finish my request properly because I didn't know the elf's name.

"Is there- someone I can speak to?" I tried again. "The doctor- McCoy?"

Second resort, not too bad...

The woman looked at me strangely then pulled out a black device that flipped open like a cell phone.

"Silvestri to the captain," She spoke into it.

"Kirk here." The strange phone sounded back.

"Subject 73 is awake and requesting parlay."

"No- no, I just want to talk to someone-" I tried to explain but they ignored me, the captain answering quickly:

"I'm coming now. Kirk out."

I stared at Silvestri, my heart sinking as I realized I might as well be going to the principal's office.

Or waiting for Dad to come home from work to yell at you.

Shit.

I heard a sound and looked behind me to see another door open automatically and McCoy entered.

"Wrenne," He gave a nod and a smile. "Nice to see you up," He sat down and fiddled with something on a table across the room. "How are you feeling?"

I didn't know what to say so I kept quiet.

McCoy came to the bed- a soft mattress now, not the cold metal from earlier- (had they moved me?)

I set my jaw, biting down on my cheeks- nervous as he maneuvered with a gray, tubular instrument that gave a steady chirp.

I tensed as he brandished it over me.

"It's alright," He reassured me, that reliable, hardy face of his. "This just gives me your vitals- doesn't even hurt."

I still watched the instrument carefully as it swept up my torso, down my legs, across my temples.

"No headache today," He smiled. "...heart rate's still- hmm…" He furrowed his brow. "Feeling a lot of anxiety, huh? I can give you something to help you feel calmer-."

"No," I responded so quickly that I heard my voice before it all registered in my head.

"Alright," McCoy nodded, looking at a small tablet in his other hand. "Whatever's comfortable for you- your heart rate isn't _dangerously_ high, just rather rapid…"

"Doctor-," My mouth needed to pace itself, my reactions couldn't keep up- but I went on anyway: "I don't want to see the captain. I want to see the other man-."

Ironically on cue, the door swept aside and Kirk came in with the elven man by his side. I noticed their uniform colors were different- the captain still in gold and the taller man was in blue like McCoy. The doctor walked over to them.

"Jim, Spock, could you give me a minute here?"

Kirk rubbed his lips together, stressed as he exchanged a look with Spock- a look with a message:_ I know, I know- don't say it, just don't._

The captain lowered his voice but I could still hear him say:

"_Kobayashi Maru_, alright? Litige and the admiral are breathing down my neck…" The captain turned around, his eyes shadowed with weight. Spock followed-

-he might as well have left a calm trail of softly fallen snow.

He was nearly impossible to read.

He was a blank slate like I had never encountered before- though I could sense that same, tranquil tide circling around him.

The automatic doors closed behind Kirk and Spock.

"You went through a lot yesterday, I understand," McCoy looked at me with sympathy, leaning a hand on the foot of the bed. "But there are some matters here that are too- political. This is deep Federation- _government_ territory and we can't really take the time to go at the pace you need...The captain's a good guy, Miss Averly. I'd put my_ life_ in that man's hands."

I couldn't get myself to look up from the sheets.

The question I didn't want to ask brandished around me, intruding my resolve.

So I gave in.

"...What year-What day-?" I managed to try but I didn't have the energy. I put my head in my hands.

McCoy came to my side and put a comforting hand on my back.

"It's 2263.20-"

"I have _no idea_ what that means!" I cried.

"-It's not Gregorian," He explained. "The calendar system has changed since you were last awake..." the doctor hesitated, typing something into the tablet he was holding. "The year is 2263."

2263.

_2263._

I bit down on the sob swelling in my chest. I felt compassion throbbing from McCoy.  
>He was a good man.<p>

"...Miss Averly," He continued delicately. "..._why_ were you frozen?"

I looked at McCoy, feeling the terrible prickles of nudity- that sensation of complete bristling followed as my mind reached out to cover my vulnerability.

The sob rose like flooding water and clutched my throat, my pride seemed to wrestle and growl inside me.

"I didn't want this." I managed, gripping the soft blanket in my hands. "Someone _stole my life!_ Propelled me into this-."

I couldn't go any further.

I stared straight ahead, focusing on a strange facet on the opposite wall.

The tears warming my eyes were oddly comforting.

"You were placed into stasis against your will?" McCoy asked, staring at me in disbelief.

"Yes."

"Who did this to you?"

Flashes of metal and hard stares.

Test tubes and syringes-

-pain-

-a screen with static-

-but I could still see him, begging me- _ordering_ them-

Black.

"I don't know," I finally responded. "I don't remember."

"It was 2006.268-," McCoy stopped, translating for me: "-September or- March of anywhere between 2006-2012...By your century's system today's date would be-."

"No- no, please, I don't want to- I can't handle that right now."

"Alright, that's fine, that's fine. You woke up yesterday, it's in the afternoon now. Just keep taking deep breaths…" The doctor took the wand instrument and waved it along the back of my head to my temples. "...your heart rate is very high, I'm going to give you something for it…Have you always had such high levels of anxiety?"

"Kind of, I- I tended more towards depression, but there is a lot of- anxiety and mental illness in my family..."

"Look, Miss Averly-."

"Wrenne," I corrected.

"Wrenne," McCoy nodded. "I'm going to be forward with you-."

The automatic doors opened and Litige stepped in with a great amount of purpose, followed by the captain and Spock.

Litige-

_anger, anger, anger_

_fear_  
><em>hatred<em>  
><em>grief<em>

Kirk-

_irritation_

_extreme irritation, directed at Litige. _  
><em>Overstepping her station.<em>  
><em>I'm the captain of this ship, dammit<em>.

Spock-  
>nothing.<br>Absolutely nothing.

I was trying to figure him out- penetrate whatever shield or mask he must be using- when he looked at me and I realized I had been staring at him.

I quickly looked back down at the sheets before deciding I didn't need to be embarrassed- I needed to focus on surviving- planning how to escape if these people turned out to be maniacs like the-

-the who?

The people with- the syringes and the hard stares from- before-?

"Jim, Miss Averly is in a _very_ compromised mental condition, if we could-," McCoy started, but the captain interrupted him before Litige could- I felt her over-eagerness, while Captain Kirk was trying to defuse some type of unstable situation that must be going on outside of this hospital place.

"I'm sorry, Bones, but the Admiral has contacted me. We need to cuff her again, start an official report and interrogation…"

I took a sharp breath as the panic shifted in- apparently it was a rather loud, sharp breath as suddenly everyone was looking at me.

"Don't worry, Miss Averly, we have very stable procedures," Spock spoke.

I was surprised how easily I answered him.

"What kind of procedures? What kind of organization is this?"

"An interplanetary federal republic known as the United Federation of Planets," He replied without changing his calm expression.

"And you people- you're- soldiers…?"

"No, we are officers of this starship, _Enterprise_."

"A _military_ ship," I looked at him suspiciously, feeling my body tense.

"Our mission is purely exploratory-," Spock talked like he was reciting from a dictionary.

"Admiral Cromidian," Litige spoke up, her chest seeming to puff with importance. "-has directed that any conversing with Subject 73 must be kept on the official record and can't defer from the cleared-."

"Lieutenant, you forget yourself."

A spark!

It was just a moment- a _split_ moment- but I felt it, I saw it in Spock's eye when he interjected- a spark of anger!

_A meteor shower_

_upon a field of steel snow_.

"You've had plenty of rest now, Helen, if you don't start acting like a Lieutenant-"

"-instead of a tantruming child-" McCoy added with agitation.

"-then I will have to penalize you," Kirk finished, his authority radiating in a steady manner.

"_With respect, Captain_," Lieutenant Litige insisted. "the admiral appointed me to direct this initiative. When you are ready, we will conduct the interrogation in Conference A-7."

_Forceful attempt at intimidation._

There was that spark in Spock again, but even more brief than before.

"Miss Averly?" Kirk turned to me.

Before I could say anything-

"We _don't_ need Subject 73's consent."

"I am _not_ a 'subject!'"

Somehow my anger came up and out of my mouth.

Litige first looked at me in shock, then fiery anger and hatred.

_History was speaking for me._

I didn't do anything- I was forced _out_ of history- life, out of _my life-!_

"I think it is a reasonable, diplomatic gesture to refer to Miss Averly by her name," Spock tilted his head slightly.

He- and Captain Kirk and Doctor McCoy- were unbending in Litige's attempt of intimidation.

"I agree," Kirk nodded then, to me, "What do you prefer?"

"Wrenne," I answered, then added: "...please."

I noticed Litige clench her jaw.

"Conference room 7-A. Don't transfer- _Wrenne_- without restraints and security detail."

With that, the lieutenant left.

"Is she in a healthy enough condition for interrogation?" Spock asked the doctor, who was waving the beeping wand over me again.

McCoy glanced at me, almost apologectically.

"Spike in blood pressure but yes, she's stable," He sighed. "You feel alright for this, Wrenne? Do you want something for your anxiety?"

Fuck no, not with an "interrogation" at hand.

"No." I responded firmly.

The men in red shirts stepped forward with a different set of blue, glowing handcuffs and another set of metal shackles.

_What the hell?!_

"What are you going to do to me?" I demanded, frightened as I leaned back against the bed, wishing I could vanish into the pillows.

Spock came forward and finally changed his disciplined stance, placing a hand on my arm,

"A Level 76.A Federation interrogation consists of thorough questioning and heavy, painless restraint."

McCoy raised his eyebrows in surprise.

I'd only known the elven man for fifteen minutes, and even I knew this was out of character for him- but at the instant Spock's hand met mine, his calm aura spread to me.

I stared at Spock- trying to decipher him as I felt a soothing wave slowly sweep up my body and through my mind.

I couldn't get through.

Mask, shield, whatever it was- whatever kept this man away from my senses-

I could tell artificial barriers, and this wasn't one of those...

It was natural.

The others didn't seem to notice anything odd except Spock's gesture.

_Weird_, Kirk shrugged at McCoy, _but it's working_.

I could understand their non-verbal communication just as easily as I read emotion.

The captain ordered the security officers to give the handcuffs to Spock, who carefully secured them around my wrists and up my forearms.

The metal- or whatever material the shackles were made of- it was cool against my skin.

Disturbing.

But I found Spock's discipline and professionalism reassuring though.

I was thinking more clearly, his touch was like magic-

Like nothing I had ever encountered before, not even from Augments.

"Are you human?" I asked him, looking up as he finished my shackles.

Spock looked at me briefly- _he_ was trying to read me too-

"No, I am Vulcan."

"I thought you were an elf," I thought aloud, feeling my cheeks grow red as I heard what I said.

McCoy snorted into rather enthusiastic laughter-directed at Spock.

"-I- mean a Tolkien thing, like Lord of the Rings-"

Not helping.

"-not the- little cookie elves- the- cool ones from...Tolkien..."

_NOT helping._

"-um- sorry, I- uh- didn't mean disrespect, I-," I bit my lips tightly together, feeling myself arch and push against the calming spirit that had washed over me.

McCoy had laughed himself into a brief coughing fit. I noticed even the captain was trying to hide a smirk behind his hand.

Spock had merely raised an eyebrow at me.

"I am, what you would call a 'humanoid', from the planet Vulcan. I am...not an elf."

There it was again-

A sparkle, a glint in his glance-

_Amused!_

Somewhere in him, he was amused.

_Tabula rasa*_. Blank slate- or pre-written?

Spock trailed his hand down to mine and his touch again spread that tranquil feeling to me.

They told me to change and everyone left.

I was given clothes- a uniform like theirs with the same insignia, but black, austere, and sober looking. Two female security officers stared straight ahead at the opposite wall as I changed.

Spock, McCoy, and almost one dozen red shirted men escorted me to a type of elevator that glided too smoothly- I couldn't even feel us moving.

"...How do you do that?" I finally asked Spock, referring to the effect of his touch.

"...Vulcans can have certain telepathic abilities and sensitivities," He didn't even look my way, rather kept his disciplined stance: hands grasped behind his back, standing perfectly straight and staring ahead.

Still speaking somewhat like he was reciting from a dictionary or a teleprompter.

The elevator doors opened automatically, and Litige was waiting there in a light gray hallway.

_Hate_ _ hate hate hate._

Why? Why was her reading so furious and disturbing? So concentrated and directed at me?

Silently she joined the group, the captain stepping to the front.

They spoke in soft, hurried, and agitated voices.

Kirk was beginning to really dislike Litige and from what I had witnessed, I could not blame him.

McCoy was irritated by her presence too, and I could sense his own anxiety rising.

Spock was unreadable again- no sparks or glints.

I felt myself at a much lower level of nervousness than I expected- I suppose that is thanks to the elven- _Vulcan_ magic...but then again, whenever I was too upset, I tended to shift into an "Observer" mode; the panic was too intense, the possible danger too great, so I would cut emotions and focus on the details around me.

I had only needed to do "Observer" mode twice before now.

The interrogation room had a long table with purple chairs. A security officer pressed a button and looked like he was typing something onto the table's surface- in the middle of the table rose something else I couldn't recognize- they ended up attaching my cuffs and shackles to it so my arms were outstretched flat onto the table.

I could only move my fingers but it wasn't painful.

McCoy and Spock sat down, Lieutenant Litige remained standing with the dozen or so security men.

The silence was incredibly uncomfortable. The doctor's irritation had risen to a growing temper.

Spock- tabula rasa.

Most of the officers in red shirts were amazed or frightened.

_May not be strong enough-_

_Look at her, I can't believe-_

"What am I being charged with?" I demanded, my voice coming out much weaker than I intended.

"You're not-," McCoy began, glancing angrily at Litige when she interrupted him:

"No speaking to Subject 73 until Captain Kirk is here and we begin an official record."

Subject.

I closed my eyes tightly, the word triggering a horrible flash of shivers through my insides.

"_We're all subjects here, Averly." He had looked at me sadly and so quizzically- almost like it had rarely occurred to him that it could be otherwise._

"_Humans aren't subjects- you must have some sort of name other than a number! What was that I heard the other man call you?"_

_He hesitated._

"_Khan."_

Kirk entered the room, sitting across from me at the table with Spock on his right and McCoy on his left. Litige was near the head of the table.

"This is Captain James T. Kirk of the starship _Enterprise NCC-1701_. Stardate 2263.208, time: 1433. Four days ago we encountered an un-named, damaged vessel where we found a woman in cryogenic stasis- we have estimated she has been frozen for over 200 years. See Captain's Log stardate 2263.204 for more details."

He sighed and leaned back in his chair, continuing,

"Under Admiral George Cromidian's orders, during this report we will be referring to _'John Harrison'_ as 'Subject 0' so to leave the interrogation uncompromised. Here with me…"

Each person answered for themselves:

"Chief Medical Officer Leonard McCoy."

"Science Commander S'chn T'gai Spock."

Sh-tiggy- sk-tigay- what?

"Lieutenant Helen Tholaz zh Litige*."

Tholaz?

"Standing by are nine security officers, all of the rank lieutenant commander or higher, also as ordered by Admiral Cromidian. The woman we found aboard the damaged vessel on 2263.204, known as 'Subject 73' is under arrest by the United Federation of Planets and we are interrogating her by the Federation's orders and authority, following Charter 345…" Kirk paused, drumming his fingers on the table. Eventually he looked to Spock, who finished for him:

"Charter 345-98H, section 26, Captain."

"Thank you, Mr. Spock, can't remember those damn numbers sometimes. For diplomacy and by her request, we will be referring to Subject 73 by her name- would you give your name for the record, please?"

I looked around nervously, suddenly remembering I was a part of this scene and not an observer.

"Cerridwen Wrenne Averly," I stuttered. Damn if I couldn't keep from stuttering when I was flustered with any kind of emotion.

"Thank you...Cowa-Kerr-Kowiadwen."

"K-eh-r-id-wehn," I accidentally corrected, feeling my cheeks blush.

No one called me by my first name, I didn't like that kind of intimacy with strangers or acquaintances let alone my captors.

"She requested we refer to her by her middle name, Wrenne," Spock specified.

I glanced at him in surprise and appreciation.

"That's right- thanks, Spock, I forgot," Kirk rubbed a hand over his eyes. He looked like he hadn't slept in days.

"Admiral Cromidian placed me in charge of this particular initiative under the captain's supervision," Litige stated. "We are specifically interrogating Averly for any association she may have with Subject 0- _any_ subjects of the BB Hold, and the conditions under which she was placed in stasis."

I never really expected her to call me the right name anyway.

"Averly, what is your birth date?" She asked without looking at me.

My mind was still so slow and hazy.

"April 7th, 1988."

"What is the last date you can recall?"

Nothing came.

Nothing.

My ears started ringing, my limbs tingling with such anxiety.

I probed a little deeper into my memory, just trying to remember the last season I remembered-

_Pain._

-the year-

_Intense pain._

"Captain, I want to remind you the mentally compromised state-," McCoy began when I managed to blurt out-

"...winter," it felt like a spurt of blood coming out of a wound. "The end of- winter. We- 2006 had ended- it was 2007?"

"I want to remind the captain of Wrenne's mentally compromised state," the doctor stated more forcefully.

"Doctor, your own psychiatric report listed her as stable-." Litige began.

"Dammit, she's not crazy-! The girl woke up after _decades_ of stasis _four days ago, _so yes, she is _emotionally_ _i.e. mentally compromised!_"

"Bones…" The captain gave McCoy a warning glance. "...I think Dr. McCoy_ is_ right, we need to keep medical updates on Wrenne, Lieutenant, she did suffer cardiac arrest a few days ago."

"What?!" I felt all the color drain from my face.

"Averly, while under arrest and during your interrogation you will _only_ speak when you are spoken to," Litige glared at me.

"Captain," Spock had folded his fingers carefully on the tabletop. "I propose that I relay the questions to Miss Averly as Lieutenant Litige is emotionally involved due to her personal history and so is the doctor, since Miss Averly is his patient."

"Agreed. Go get whatever medical supplies you think are necessary, Bones- Dr. McCoy," Kirk corrected himself. "Mr. Spock will continue the interrogation."

McCoy left the room.

_Anger, agitation, concern_

"I have read the petitions for Wrenne's interrogation and have an understanding of the questions that need to be addressed," Spock explained before asking,

"Are you a genetically engineered human?"

I instantly stiffened.

Despite Spock's usual calming affect on me, when he began questioning me- I remembered with a shock that I was basically on trial.

That these people had nearly let me die.

"_...cardiac arrest..."?_

I _didn't_ know who they were. This Federation could be a dictatorship for all I knew. I had no idea who had won the war, after all- history and present were a blank.

I might as well be blind.

I needed to defend myself.

"No," I replied.

"Were you raised in a medical or scientific facility?"

"No!"

"Are you familiar with Augmented human beings, commonly referred to as 'Augments?'"

"Of course," I grimaced- that question was painful down to my roots. I began to wonder if my "interrogation" was being video recorded or just vocally recorded- or a lie-detector? If they had them in then, they'd have them now...

"Do you identify yourself as an 'Augment?'"

"_No."_

"Do you possess any new or enhanced abilities that natural humans do not?"

"No."

A light behind me flared red, giving a whooping sound.

"You failed to answer the question truthfully. Do you have any abilities that natural humans do not have?" Spock repeated.

"...Yes."

"What are those abilities?"

McCoy returned with a small satchel at his side.

"I am-," I felt my heart tighten, beat so much faster. Nudity was sweeping over me. "I have- high levels of empathic and psychic sensitivities. And my um- my IQ- and basic brain function is much higher than the...average...human…"

So naked, so exposed.

It was only intensifying with each moment and no amount of clothing or hiding could cover me. I was completely overwhelmed and couldn't sense anything else. Like a flooding stench or blaring alarm.

"Can you read thoughts?" Spock continued, unphased though Litige was now sitting up straight in her chair, leaning over the table with intense eyes looking at me.

The captain regarded me with suspicion, the doctor with some type of fear stemming from a memory of his that I couldn't reach.

"No."

Again, the brief red light and the whoop sound.

"You have failed to answer the question truthfully. Can you read the thoughts of others?" He repeated.

"Kind of- I- I don't hear them or something, I can't sense or read them automatically like- um- like I can with- emotions, but if I concentrate, I can brush...experience...certain powerful thoughts or memories," I was staring at the gentle blue glow of my first set of restraints.

"Do you have intense physical strength that is unnatural for humans?"

"No."

"Did you know a man named Khan Noonien Singh?"

I felt my eyes widen, my breaths coming more quickly.

"Yes."

Damn tears stinging my eyes- but they were small, few, and light ones-

"Wrenne, try to breathe as evenly as possible," McCoy advised, gently but professionally. "I'm going to take her vitals."

He had put a wall up- I could still read him, but I could feel the wall- he was afraid, angry, and suspicious.

But still gentle to me.

He had gotten out of his seat with the beeping wand in hand, carefully gesturing it up and down my body.

"Wrenne's heart rate and blood pressure are far too high. I'm giving an injection chlorothiafurozide, 250mg," He took the ear-thermometer thing and gently pressed it against my neck.

"How do you know Khan Noonien Singh?"

I paused, trying to think quickly- I _had_ to defend myself-

"He took me prisoner when I illegally crossed the Hayagrivan border," I replied.

Spock finally broke his usual facade, interest lighting in his gaze- but it was more complex than that- I couldn't read it, I couldn't reach it-

Fascinating.

"Hayagrivan border? Where was that located?" He asked.

There- that horrible word-

"_Was._"

"Hayagriva is- _was_," I corrected myself. "a country that politically separated itself from India due to extreme- differences. When the U.N.- United- um- Nations and other authorities found the Hayagrivan government's eugenic projects inhumane, attempts were made to- stop them... So Hayagriva closed its borders, not letting anyone in or out. It was The 2nd Iron Curtain."

Frustration burned in my chest- I could remember _this_ but not the last moments I was awake in the _right_ world- _my_ world?

"And Singh took you prisoner when you were behind the border?" The lieutenant asked.  
>She had softened considerably which made her easier to read.<p>

_Pain._

Throbbing loss and pain- she seemed to associate it with me?

"Why did you illegally cross the border?" Litige asked.

"I was an...activist...against eugenics-," I closed my eyes to concentrate.

_Orange tinted fields._

_Sudden shock of dark, cold water._

_Desperate to catch a breath._

_Shine- glare of painful light-_

_Tall man in black_

_Heavy gun-_

_Breath, breath!_

_Water in my lungs-_

_Then a strong pull, pulling me back to the dock._

_I could breathe._

Suddenly I realized I was shaking, trembling.

Small black dots zoomed around my vision.

"-trying to...help someone- someone _out_ of Hayagriva-."

"Were you-." Spock started, but again that interjector, Litige, interrupted in a loud, demanding voice: _"Were you ever allies with Khan Noonien Singh!"_

Light-headed.

My chest hurt.

"Alright, that's it, Jim-," McCoy slammed a hand onto the table. "-_Captain_, I petition for a continuance _right now_- stop the record, the report- her blood pressure is 178 over 107, I'm taking her back to Sick Bay immediately- release these damn cuffs from the table before I have to restart her whole damn system!"

"Yes," I answered Litige's question, my head so foggy- everything detached- tears down my cheeks- my beloved, gone- "Khan is my husband."

I felt another injection flick gently into my skin.

A security officer had been working to detach my restraints from the table when he stopped dead.

Then I noticed- despite my faint state- that the whole room had tightened like a taut rubber band.

"_Singh is her husband!"_ Litige nearly shouted as if she had caught me red-handed.

_Hate, hate, hate, hate-_

So much stronger than before-

A rage-

"I'm- I'm taking her to Sick Bay," McCoy avoided looking at me, his tone professional. "… she isn't having a heart attack on my watch…"

"What- why is that so horrible?" I cried, warm drops rolling down my cheeks. "What did I miss? What- What did he do-?"

"Miss Averly, I want you to take _deep_ breaths now," the doctor commanded, helping me onto a hovering stretcher. "in through the nose, out through the mouth. Lie down, keep breathing in," He inhaled deeply to demonstrate. "and out." He exhaled.

"...Bones."

I turned my head, seeing Kirk's face darken with- something-

_anger anger anger_

-but more than that-

"I'm going to give you a sedative, we need to slow down your heart rate as quickly as possible-"

Another injection.

"-this will may you sleepy-."

"Bones," the captain repeated. "After you've stabilized her…"

_I still remember his face was sharp in the moonlight._

_His gaze so powerful._

_And I was soaking wet, hacking, struggling to breathe._

_He had lowered his gun resignedly._

"...Leave." He had said. "Leave or I will kill you."

_I gathered myself,_

_ran, stumbling and bruised- weighed down by my damp clothes-_

_-But another, even brighter light suddenly beamed down from a hellicopter-_

_Loud, booming voice-_

"Stop. You have illegally entered this region. Surrender yourself now."

_Then repeating in Hindi- then repeating in English-_

_And the order- softer, a person nearby-_

"435-7K, take her _now_."

_His face-_

_sad- for a good, long moment he looked at me- sad-_

_And he was a bound prince, a warrior king-_

_And he had let me go._

_But after the order, he came upon me easily-_

_-so quickly-_

_-looked at me so sadly-_

And I was taken prisoner.

Prisoner, just as I was now.

I stirred restless and distressed in the first stages of drugged sleep.

Khan-

My beloved-

_You will never be a prisoner again."_

He _was_ dead- dead and gone- if not, if he could somehow rise from the grave- my captors would have hell itself on their heels- hell itself for making me a prisoner for the second time.

_**{Continued in Chapter 3, Weaving Stage VII: Prisoner}**_


	3. Chapter Three, Weaving Stage VII

_**{ Weaving Stage VII: Prisoner }**_

Jim was looking into his (illegal) Romulan Ale rather than drinking it.

Leonard came into the abandoned conference room, attempting _un_successfully to _un_furrow his brow.

"You alright?" He asked Jim.

"The crew's in chaos, the ship is stalled..." Jim sighed shaking his head and putting the glass on the table beside him.

"And then there's this Khan Part Two business," Leonard added, sitting down and rubbing his eyes. "Global war criminial from the stone ages..."

For a moment neither of them spoke, but rather looked outside the porthole they faced, a window out onto space. Leonard finally gave voice to the statement that lingered between them.

"She may not be a criminal."

"I have to side with Spock on that one, Bones," Jim looked at him grimly. "What are the odds she isn't? How the fuck is that logical?"

"You taking _that_ instead of the sleep medication I gave you?" He nodded toward the ale.

"No," a coy smile curled Jim's lip. "I planned to take them both so I could enjoy this view as a drunk."

"Smart-ass..." Bones chuckled, taking the glass and swiftly downing the blue drink.

"That was _mine_."

"My patient was at risk so I had to remove the obstacle," Leonard joked.

Another wave of somberness crested.

"...I couldn't drink it," Jim admitted, turning back to the porthole. "I kept thinking..."

"...'I need my wits about me.'"

"Yes."

Silence lounged in the room with them, and the weight of their situation grew heavier.

"My turn," Kirk eventually spoke, sitting back at the table with Leonard. "What do you think of her?"

"Me?"

"Yes, you've dealt with her as a doctor, you dealt with Khan as a doctor. You saved her life, you were the first person she spoke to. There had to be time for an impression."

It was Bones' turn to sigh.  
>"Look, Jim, you want me to come out and say it like a corn-fed-fool? I will: she's too sensitive. She's too obedient. It doesn't- match."<p>

"Khan obeyed at Q'ronos."

"Khan never _obeyed_," Leonard countered. "Khan _schemed_. Khan was patient. He allowed us to take him prisoner on that moon, you know that. He knew we had something he wanted, so he waited, he _schemed_, and then he pounced. Khan obeyed like a tiger obeys a hunter- he was waiting to attack." He chewed on his tongue a moment before saying, "Look, you know I hate to admit these things, but we need to follow Spock's most _recent_instinct on this. That girl-."

"She's not a girl, she's a full-grown woman!" Jim corrected irritably. "She's not some helpless Sleeping Beauty, she's the associate- _the wife_ of a World War criminal dictator!"

Bones waved his hand impatiently, "I get it, Jim, but hear me out- she's got something screwy going on inside her brain and Spock's the only one who can interpret it. You need to get him to talk."

Almost on cue, the doors pulled into the doorframe and Spock entered the room.

"Ears burning?" Leonard smiled.

Spock gave Bones a significant look before he asked, "Did you tell him?"

Jim turned away from the window. "Tell me what?"

Leonard and Spock weren't done yet. The doctor focused on sending him a very negative expression before answering, "Your blood sample has changed."

"...Changed? That was more than a month ago."

"Well, it changed, dammit all if I can explain it yet, maybe my _mother_ can!" Leonard glowered again at Spock. "It's from that tox screen I did for your insomnia and the vivid dreaming...your white blood cell count is rising-."

"So I'm sick."

"-No. A large amount of white blood cells usually means an infection of some kind, but they aren't reacting like that. Your cells are all working extra efficiently, like they're at triple capacity and-."

"Khan's blood is changing me," Jim finished for him.

"Dammit, can I say one _fucking_ word!" Bones cried, smacking the tabletop in exasperation. "It isn't _changing_ you- you're so damn paranoid about that- but it may be changing the way your body _functions_. It's been over a year since the transfusion and there are no major medical warning signs."

"Except for the white blood cells."

"Dr. McCoy kept a sample of your blood before the transfusion of Khan's blood," Spock explained, "so he could examine an original sample against the new one."

"And you compared _both_ of those to my tox screen sample?" Jim looked at him grimly.

"Yes," Leonard nodded. "That's how I noticed the differences. It's nothing to get excited about, but I'd like to get some new blood from you so I can rule out anything else."

"Fine," Jim shuffled uncomfortably and threw out a distracting subject: "Spock, Bones thinks you're our key to unraveling Averly's case. You want to comment on that?"

This time McCoy gave the aggitated expression to Kirk.

"What- is that _tattling?_" Kirk snapped.

Spock wrinkled his brow and exchanged another significant look with the doctor. Jim recognized the expression and snorted irritably, looking away. He wasn't some fragile thing and neither was their prisoner.

"My opinion this far," Spock answered. "is inconclusive."

Kirk rolled his eyes.

"Averly is obviously very intelligent with many talents and augmented abilities she is not telling us about."

"You think she's more than some psychic?" Leonard asked.

Spock nodded emphatically, "Absolutely."

"What did you read from her mind, Spock?" Jim questioned, leaning back in his seat. It was a weird question.

"Read?"

"You said a few days ago that her mind 'called' out to you," Leonard added.

It was Spock's turn to shuffle uncomfortably, pursing his lips just the slightest bit as he lowered himself into a chair.  
>"When she first woke, she started to panic," He described. "Like a person standing on unsteady ground, she reached out for stability and apparently found me-."<p>

"_'Stable'_."

"Yes, it isn't uncommon for Vulcans to have a calming effect on those who also possess mental talents." He paused. "It is a grievous violation of privacy to share such glimpses into others' minds...however, considering the circumstance, we have no choice."

"Then get on with it!" Leonard quipped.

"I saw her apprehended at the Hayagrivan border, just as she said," Spock explained. "...apprehended by Khan himself and the government after his unsuccessful attempt to let her go."

"Khan tried to let Averly _go?_"

"He would later say he had been ordered to shoot on site, however, when he had his chance, he did not take it."

Spock withheld certain details he had seen, personal information that wouldn't quite help their situation. Details such as Khan holding Averly in a daisy-ed, sunny meadow and telling her so instant was his love, his awe at her beauty that during that muddy, dark night he couldn't bring himself to shoot a nymph. Spock was sure such personal information would not help them, so he kept the romantic scene to himself- among other things.

"Averly was apprehended though, despite his efforts. Whoever she had been attempting to rescue was killed. She was taken to a high-security holding cell for 17 days. Khan later explained to her that Hayagrivan experts were deciding whether to kill her, hold her for ransom, or brain-wash her to join their ranks as, at the very least, a 'meat shield'."

"You saw all of this in a _moment?_" Kirk was astonished.

"Memories are transferred to the brain more quickly than most electrical signals in the body," Spock spoke as if his ability was nothing more than turning on a light.

"The specialists were, at first, unaware of her intelligence and attempted to befriend her as if she were a refugee from a starving country. She was in a small cell for 17 days before they offered her a room with better amenities under the guise of friendship, with actual motive being manipulation. For over two months, Averly was exposed to various 'mind control' methods, but she proved very resistant. She was then subject to much more violent methods of 'forced coersion'.."

"That _bastard!_" Leonard exclaimed.

"Khan was _not_ one of the specialists dealing in mind control," Spock contradicted. "Of course this account _is_ subjective, like all memories, but in Averly's mind, she discovered he was a member of an elite military squad working mostly in guerrilla warfare and espionage: a very high rank in the Hayagrivan government. She thought of them as 'the Hayagrivan KGB'. I researched the reference; the KGB were the secret police of the Soviet Union, infamous during the 20th century's 'Cold War' for its extreme stance on communism and the country's nuclear weapons."

"Like the C.I.A. from the same time, but _more_ corrupt," McCoy added with obvious prejudice.

"How the- how did she escape?" Kirk asked.

Spock took a deep breath.

"Khan." He answered. "For weeks after her capture, he submitted inquiries and engaged in illegal activity to determine her condition. He continually petitioned to have her set in his custody. When Averly's unique skills were documented and proven, he used the information to further his attempts of removing her from the 'thought-control' programs. He told her such talents would be erased had she remained in 're-education', and that he-." Spock paused, omitting the glimmer of evidence he had seen in Wrenne's mind that indicated that Khan wanted to "rescue" her because he loved her, because he could not determine why she-

"_You glimmer, beloved. How could I ignore that?"_

"...he wanted to recruit her into his _'C.I.A.'" _Spock finished. The "glimmer"- whether Khan had been lying or not, it was Wrenne's own intimate memory that he did not think necessary to reveal.

"Did she change sides?"

"I do not know," Spock exhaled, almost masking his frustration. "That was all. I tried to examine her further, but she has _very_ advanced defense abilities when it comes to her mind."

"You couldn't break in again?" Jim asked, rising to order another drink from the simulator.

"No. I am quite sure I would need her to open her mind voluntarily."

Kirk sat back down rubbing his chin thoughtfully.  
>"So...what does this tell us about her?" He thought aloud.<p>

McCoy and Jim both looked to Spock, who sighed. "She _is- _or must have _been- _compassionate...she may still cling tightly to those morals and sensitivity, however, we can't ignore the fact that she underwent a large amount of mind alteration. Averly may not be who she used to be."

"I thought the brain-washing didn't work," Leonard commented.

"The _basic_ 'brain-washing' had no effect," He corrected. "She had a much longer period of fierce 'forced coersion'."

"How many synonyms for 'brain-washing' do you _know_?" Kirk chuckled.

Spock ignored him, "I could not perceive how long she was treated this way, but I did find that her mind lingers on the trauma. Her experiences very well could have turned her violent...and her mind centers around her affection for Khan- perhaps even her faith in him."

"Possibly violent...possibly loyal to Khan..." Jim shook his head, overwhelmed.

**Weaving Stage II: Hunt**

He had come up on us like a tiger.

Silent, sudden.

We had a procedure set for if we were discovered. She abandoned it immediately though. I screamed after her but she had crumbled like wet paper.

Too much pressure.

He had appeared at the end of the aisle we were sifting through.

The plants tall like a cornfield, but with blossoms of fushia and bright orange- no type of organism I had ever seen. Eranja said they were condensed versions of opium and cocoa, creating an incredibly addictive hybrid of opiates and cocaine.

Like an idiot, I had taken a sample of the petals to bring home as proof of even more dangerous biological engineering.

I still thought I was going home...so naïve.

And so damn stupid.

Following a clap of thunder, he appeared- Glinting black and white stripes of shadow cast along the orange plants, like the eerie spectre of a tiger.

His face was terrifying, baring all the darkness and death he symbolized with that giant weapon at his side.

So stupid. I was ridiculously stupid- challenging a gigantic, corrupt empire. There wasn't anyway I could've made a difference.

Eranja slipped away as effortlessly as a serpent.

Or Kah.

"Eranja!" I screamed after her. "Procedure!"  
>As if procedure had any value to the tiger who hunted us.<p>

While I was a child, my mother always read me The Jungle Book. I'd never imagined Shere Khan as a coward, even though that is the "correct" interpretation. I saw him as a blazing flame of man's lost ferality.A romantic savagery locked away in our minds. The wildness we'd left behind as a sacrifice for civilization.

And I saw that fire burning, burning bright in the orange fields that night.

It wasn't romantic.  
>It was the most terrifying thing I had ever seen.<p>

His face seemed hollowed by shadow, madness, and spilt blood. In that moment, I crumbled just like Eranja- crumbled into the role of prey.

But I didn't forget procedure: I rolled into the aisles of vegetation on my left, stumbling and bumping helplessly down the nearby ravine. The rocks cracked like icy baseballs over my head and bones. I saw stars and lost all my breath.

Procedure followed the previous reconnaisance of the area:

_Roll into the ravine and play dead among the rocks at the bed of the dried Satluj River, then await for the 1:15AM release of the Beas River aquaduct (used to water the fields), and allow the Beas' tide _ _to carry you across the Pakistani border where Pakistani officials will await your arrival._

Because the Satluj was supposed to be a _dry_ ravine, a _dead _river.

What we didn't know was that the Hayagrivan border-patrol flooded sections of land if they detected suspicious activity.

Satluj River never _was_ dead.

I plunged into a full ravine, an overflowing river, dazed and breathles-  
>-ice cold, muddy water.<br>It stabbed into my lungs.

Even from under the water, I felt the thunder outside clap again.  
>I half-expected to feel the grasp of the Shere Khan soldier.<p>

I was sinking lower and lower. I was going to die in the water that should have carried me to safety.

So I kicked.

Spending the energy would kill me, but I kept kicking.

I broke the surface- shocked to greet the night air as I coughed up gritty water and swallowed the night air in ragged gasps that passed down my throat, hard as marbles.

I couldn't even feel the burning-bright tiger watching me from the north side of the riverbank.

I'd fallen to the ground, slumping against the earth as I hacked my lungs dry. Mud smeared against my cheeks as my body spasmed wildly with each cough. Stupid, but at some point I worried over ruining my clothes.

But I jerked into alertness at the sound of a gunshot.

Eranja.

I don't know why I screamed. I barely knew her. But I felt my throat stretch and pull and scratch as I grieved through spontaneous, unreigned rage- clawing at the soft clay beneath me.

It was futile- it was all so futile-!

When I opened my eyes, I realized the tiger soldier had been with me all along-

-watching me?

The hollowness in his face was gone- that terrifying distortion, the wildness, and brutal violence was gone. Replaced with an odd shine, like trickles of dreary sunshine reflecting against snow clouds.

He raised his head but lowered his weapon.

"Leave," He had ordered, as if I were genuflect before him, begging for mercy. "Leave or I _will_ kill you."

Did he think I was a Hayagrivan?

Without another thought, I scrambled up and away- my now barefeet slapping loudly against the dirt. I was soaking, muddying the ground and slipping with every step. I could still smell fresh mud. My long skirt, weighed down with water, was slumping off my hips and down to my thighs.

I didn't have the luxury of readjusting my clothing.

I was back in the orange fields of unknown, narcotic plants, burying myself in the rows of the field. I heard a sound blend in with the grumbling thunder, and too late I realized it was the sound of a helicopter.

Stunning, unnatural light exploded around me in a condemning exhibition.

_**"STOP. You have illegally entered this region. Surrender yourself now."**_

I was flustered and sealed in.  
>Frantically, I ran in a circle- reaching out for an imaginary escape-<p>

The helicopter roared over me, repeating its message in Hindi, Chinese, Russian, Japanese…

There was no where to go. The helicopter might as well have lowered invisible walls- I could run, but they would follow with that damn light! I had_had_ my chance- my _miracle_- Shere Khan had let me go-

-there were no more miracles left.

Off in the distance, a short, dark shadow of a man.

"435-7K, take her _now_."

Before I turned around, Khan the tiger had me in his hands and I couldn't even squirm. I tried to slump and shrink away, drop my weight, stamp on his foot, kick him in the balls- but he pressed his thumb into a muscle in my shoulder and I felt my body go limp.

The instant I felt his touch, he had already shackled me.  
>There was a sharp bite- a shot? a dart?- and I fell immediately.<p>

My life-

my life is over.

I never thought I'd die this way.

Everything around me vanished and I felt my body collapse.

Jim and Wrenne jolted awake around the same time.

In his quarters, Kirk put his head in his hands.

In the brig, Wrenne held herself tightly, rubbing her hands up and down her arms.

This situation was getting the best of him. He needed to pump up his approach.

She was _here_, not in Hayagriva, she repeated the thought to herself. She felt the texture of the blanket over her legs, she felt her dry skin against her fingers.  
>Here, <em>not<em> Hayagriva.

He wasn't this weak! Even after _The Vengeance_'s crash into the Academy- even when he was in the hospital, he didn't have nightmares- let alone ones so vivid. The option of telling Bones floated into his head again, but he shook it out like water stuck in his ear.

_Not_ in Hayagriva, _not_ in Hayagriva-  
>The jail was too much for her. She was going to crack.<br>No, no, no, no, _no_.  
>She'd survived Hayagriva. She'd survive this, despite the wall closing in around her- siphoning out the oxygen-<p>

Claustrophobia, claustrophobia, she reminded herself, This is just a symptom. This prison atmosphere was pulling her out of her body back to that stall of a cell in in that God-forsaken country.  
>But this wasn't that cell, she knew that.<br>_Not_ in Hayagriva; _Here_and_not_ in Hayagriva.  
>At least <em>this<em> cell was nice. As nice as a cell could be...

"_Hi, Bones, I'm having scary dreams can you help me?"_Jim shook his head, feeling humiliation over an imaginary scene. Spock and Bones were already waiting for the sign that he was nuts- that "Khan Part Two" would be too much, that he would break. He could tell from the way they looked at each other with a concerned, "_I told you so_" or maybe even: "_Did you see that? He's crazy._"

The captain lifted his head and looked down at his hands. He didn't _feel_ like a different person...

He was _still_ James Tiberius Kirk. Just _James Tiberius Kirk under a great amount of stress._

He lied down again, repeating in his head: _James Tiberius Kirk, James Tiberius Kirk._

Leonard had never seen anything like it. There were extra fibers along each side of the double helix, all with accompanying pairs beyond any medical category- and even _more_ seemed to be growing in Jim's DNA.

"We witheld vital information," Spock had a reprimanding tone in his voice as he gazed at the magnified viewer that broadcasted the image of the DNA strands.

"Well for hell's sake, Spock, you saw the mood he was in!" Bones grumbled, shuffling the blood samples back into an organized fashion. "The stress is getting to him."

"...or the new, developing neurons in his brain."

"You're right, Spock," Bones spoke sarcastically at first, "with Jim, we skipped sometruth! _Oh wait_, there's still a hell of a lot that you haven't told_any_ of us either! I can tell there is _plenty_ of informatin _you_ are witholding_..._" He snapped. "..._important_information about Averly that you learned during your brief stroll in her noggin. Don't think for a _second_ that you've pulled the wool over _my_ eyes- And I'm a doctor, not a therapist! Whatever's eating at Jim's mood will pass just as usual. Besides, can we even be sure his change in behavior is because of something extraordinary? The ship's stranded, the crew nearly mutinous...we're all in shitty moods. The only thing that'd prove the source of any shift in his personality would be a brain scan...you know Jim would take to that like a cat on a hot tin roof..."

"You _are_ a doctor, but you are also his friend."

"_We_, Spock. _We_ are his friends. Anyway, you yourself didn't seem too eager to start blurting out the details about Jim," McCoy leaned his forehead against his hand.

Spock pondered on that:  
>"<em>We are his friends."<em>

He found it oddly comforting.

"Doctor," Spock began again. "I believe you _did_ make the right decision...the captain seems rather unstable. Unless you are sure his life is in danger, we best not add more distress to a desperate situation."

Leonard knew that for Spock, it was the closest to a friendly pat on the back as he was going to get.

"Thanks, Pointy," He grumbled tiredly. "Go get some rest or meditation or whatever it is you do...I'll keep up the work... Hopefully, we're just making a mountain out of a mole hill..."

Spock watched McCoy for a moment before he turned and left the medical wing.

He was not about to sleep.

"Commander!" The security officer acknowledged him with some surprise as Spock entered the brig. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Where is she?"

He didn't need to specify. The officer pointed her delicate, blue hand toward the proper cell.

"Commander Spock," She spoke behind him, rising from her station at the observation desk. "I'm sure you're aware that 73 isn't to be questioned outside an official-."

"-I am aware," He answered. "Officer Atch'axah, after what our crew has been through, I'm sure you have confidence that I will handle this prisoner as aptly as I handled John Harrison." Atch'axah nodded and went back to her desk. She typed onto the flat surface of her command board, hacking into the security camera so it would feed a harmless loop while Commander Spock put a creative spin on rules she didn't care for anyway.

"Averly," Spock called, his temper carefully masked in his voice.

She was sitting up on the bench, the blanket pulled high to her neck. She didn't look toward him.

"Wrenne," He remained determined. "It is time you told me about the injections- how the augmented blood changed you."

He saw her shiver.

"Why?" Wrenne asked in a ghost of a voice. Her sight was looking beyond her maximum security cell and into the past.

"A man's life is at stake," Spock answered, straightening his stance stubbornly. "And if you are the empath you claim to be, such high stakes will matter to you. This man is your only hope to be tried fairly. Now _tell me about the injections-_the 'Augmented Conversion'. _Now_."

Wrenne wondered why she wasn't crying.

Khan was long dead. She was all alone in a galaxy of a government, and treated like a criminal. But no tears since the interview. No tears with this alien interrogating her about the most painful and yet simultaneously wonderful period of her life.

She shivered again and reached for the steel anchor in her chest- the stronghold that connected her to the fiery, warrioress she'd always wanted to be.

The man in danger...the captain. Wrenne could read that as easily as if it were vibrating from Spock's body.

"_Now, Wrenne,_" He demanded more forcefully.

Did Spock have any idea of the severity of his question? What kind of door it would open?

Wrenne felt her heart tighten in panic just thinking about it.

_Space, think of space,_she urged_._

A lot of comfort came to her in this blank, austere cell when she pictured how she was actually shooting through space.

She wasn't on earth, she was in _space_.

"I'll tell you," She conceded, almost not recognizing her own voice. "...but _only_ you. And _I_ want some answers in return- otherwise, I won't tell you anything more."

Wrenne shivered again, pulling the blanket even more tightly around her as the realization re-occurred to her:

There was no where to go in space. No where but into darkness.

_**{ Continued in Chapter Four, Weaving Stage VIII: Order }**_


	4. Chapter Four, Weaving Stage VIII

Chapter Text

_**{ Weaving Stage VIII: Nightmares } **_

_"I can tell you're not the type of man to make that kind of mistake-," I started, glancing at the two men in the room._

_Khan gave me a forceful look like a hot sun's glare and I folded under it._

_"I did not shoot because I _thought _you were already dead," He answered, easily lifting my whole body by the arm and setting me back in the chair. _

_"Order's coming," Noonien murmured in Hindi._

_I wasn't going to let them know I could speak anything but English, so I pretended I didn't understand._

_"What was that?! And what are you doing with me-?" I couldn't stop talking, it was like I had gone insane. "Why did you take me from the jail- ? Who_are _you_-?!_"_

_"451-9N," sounded over the intercom (Hindi). "on our way to Intake."_

_"_I _am no one and neither are you," Khan instructed (English). "If you want to survive, forget your name."_

_"But they must call you something-."_

___"You Americans don't know _when _to shut up!" Noonien exclaimed (English), exasperated._

_I could read "EDUCATION INTAKE" (Hindi) on the screen as it lit up and started again._

_"System's back up, we're out of here." Noonien gave Khan a tug by the collar (Hindi). "Your fingerprints are all over this, khan*, now just pull a name out of your ass! Time's up-"_

___"435-7K," Khan answered me (English). He rose slowly, moving to his own rhythm, although perhaps a bit more drawn out just to irritate his companion. "If you ever again end up at the bottom of a river, you may repeat it- but _only once_."_

___"I _said _'pull a name out of your ass', you bastard!" Noonien gave Khan a loving smack over the head. "No, go ahead and save them trouble, put your neck in the guillotine yourself!" _

_Khan lingered for a sliver of a moment and then he was gone._

I took in a deep breath and held it.

___"I'll tell you, but _ _only_ _you. And _ _I_ _want some answers in return- otherwise, I won't tell you anything more."_

__My demand came out a lot more calmly than I expected.

Spock's eyebrow twitched, but that was all that changed his expression.

He was silent for a moment and I raised a hand to shield my eyes from the bright, naked light that bathed the whole jail.

_Determined. _ _  
><em>Anger, guilt, fear-

"Wow," I finally exhaled, recognizing the emotions weren't mine, but the crew's.

"You are not entitled to make such demands," Spock finally answered.

I felt the tears tear up my chest leaving long, deep, invisible gashes.

_"No_," I found myself chuckling dryly while the tears kept climbing out of my breast. "No, I'm _not _entitled, am I?"

I stood up and stared at him- this stupid, sterile stranger- I focused all my anger on him, worked to _glower _at him like I'd never glared at anyone else before-

"I'm just some _chick_ from the_ stupid_ ages! Some index card that didn't get filed away properly! I'm _sorry_ for being such a _fucking _inconvenience! I'll go _stuff_ myself and stand in the _Smithsonian!_"

I ignored the present fact that the elf- _Vulcan-_ probably wouldn't understand my 21st century references.

I stepped up to the front of the cell but kept behind the yellow and red lines because I didn't know what the transparent wall was made of- or if it was wall at all-

"I lost my _husband!_ I lost my _world- _I _lost _my _life!_" I meant to point at Spock but crying spasmed my muscles so instead I pointed at him with a crooked finger like some old Disney witch. "And _your _government is charging me with some crime- I don't know _what _is going on- and _your _crew is going _batshit crazy _up there," I gestured toward the ceiling as I started pacing in a circle. "-their emotions so loud I can't sleep, and I still don't know how the fuck I got here!"

I gripped my hair in my hands so I could feel the painful pull on my scalp.

"You're the _only _one who's treated me like _any _kind of human being," I tried to swallow the sobs that hiccupped out."...so I'm sorry if I thought _quid pro quo_ would be reasonable to ask from someone who knows what _this_ is like!"

I blew it- I'd started crying, and now I'd just be some "hysterical" woman or a "manipulative"-

"I apologize."

___What?_

I looked up to find Spock studying me carefully.

"You're correct," He nodded. "I have no reason to treat you with bias and I apologize if it seemed like I was."

I took a moment to hitch in my breathing, hold down the sobbing.

I pushed the tears off my face.

_"No, don't say 'It's okay' unless you mean it."_

_"Then what do I say?" I asked._

_Mam* had thought for a moment._

_"'Thank you'?" I suggested._

_"Yes, 'thank you'! Say 'thanks'."_

"Than-thank you," I stuttered while I found the strength to reign myself in.

I can't believe he listened to me.  
>My shivering breaths were refreshing, the cell a little less cramped.<p>

"...You want to know about the- injections," I tangled my hand back into my hair. "What makes you think that the c-."

_Yes, the captain- but as this is against usual protocol, please don't leave a trace back to him._

_You really care about him, don't you?_

_He is my friend._

"I'm not as good at that," I was flushed from trying to interpret and send mental messages. "but I understand."

Khan and Noonien gave off the same emotional vibration as the captain and Spock.

_Warmth mixed with irritation and concern._

Classic friendship.

"If there are Augment Injections involved- um- _this person _isn't flying the ship, is he?

Spock looked at me incredulously.

"Well I don't mean like an _airplane_," I felt my cheeks burn into a deeper red. "It's just- he shouldn't be driving- I mean _flying-."_

A golden spark in Spock's eye.

At least I was good at making him laugh. I'd be sure to point out something from _my _world that _he_ didn't understand.

"Where is _this person_?" I asked.

"Is that really of any significance?"

"_Absolutely, " _I nodded, closing my eyes.

Mam had taught me how to organize all the stimuli, all the readings, the vibrations from people.

I visualized dozens of cords, chains, and tethers hanging from different angles.

Many colors and textures.

I felt around- I couldn't feel much, it was as if I were wearing two pairs of gloves.

I guess I was rusty. (Understandable since much of my life was still draped in a fog.)

I managed to find a cord that gave off the same reading as the captain and I took it in my hands.

"...In his-."

"Sleeping," I thought aloud. "...in his room? That's good. How long ago was- um, _this person_- injected?"

"Over two years ago."

"Oh, well- if he hasn't gone nuts by now-," I stopped, noticing the flicker in Spock's usual calm vibrations. "-that's a colloquialism, sorry- I mean, if he hasn't exhibited_ symptoms_ by now-."

"What are the symptoms?" Spock asked cautiously.

"For men?" I thought for a moment, reaching into my murky memory. "The first symptoms are insomnia and strange, vivid dreams. Eventually your body will adjust to a much lighter sleep schedule, but in the meantime, the body thinks it's dying. Paranoia, delusions, irritability- but they pass- though the men always gain some higher level of aggression or violence that does _not _seem to dissipate...but there _are _more signs, worse ones...in extreme cases..."

"You know these facts from beyond your own experience?" Spock was surprised.

"You think I was the only one they tried to pump full of Augmented blood? I was held captive for two years, sir. I infiltrated an intelligence task force and got my hands on all the medical information I could."

Shit. I'd said way too much.

I noticed Spock had already carefully logged away the information.

"It is reassuring to find you are more easily accessing your memories," Spock observed, suspicion tingled under the cover of his peaceful aura.

I opened my mouth to speak but realized there was nothing to say. In spontaneous spurts of lucidity, I would think or comment on something from my life- not a memory I was unaware of, but rather one I hadn't been able to reach before-

Memories kept on a high shelf. All the while I was hopping and leaning and tossing my body to grab what I wanted, then just like _that-_

_-_it would teeter off the shelf and fall into my arms.

Hayagriva's Intelligence & Infiltration Task Force, where Khan had been the prince of his fellow warriors.

The task force- we had all called it _IIT._

"So Khan successfully extracted you from the...'re-education' program," Spock assumed.

"He saved my life," My tears seemed to come from nowhere but I rubbed my cheeks dry again. "...What was the quality of the injections? How many did- _this person_- receive?"

"Quality?"

"Some Augments are- better crafted than others," I managed, trying not to talk about them like they were things rather than people. _People _rather than _subjects_. "...Depending on whose blood you are dealing with, the injections could cause more..._drastic _changes or more...fatal...ones...but it also depends on how many injections of Augmented blood- _this person- _received. How many?"

Spock hesitated and I sensed a really dark memory cloud him.

"They were...less..._injections_," He managed, giving an uncomfortable cough. "...more of a- _transfusion..._"

"A whole _transfusion?_" I exclaimed in disbelief. "Have- have you learned _anything _from my time?!"

"Previous experimentation had shown it to be fairly restorative-."

"_At first!" _I specified, putting my head in my hands again, tugging on my hair. "It _always _appears to be a magical healing potion at first, but then-! What _the fuck_-! Are you people completely _insane? _What circumstance would make you so ambitious-."

"A matter of life and _death_-," Spock's eyes were sharp like icicles.

"Then you should have left him _dead!"_

Spock's reaction was so instant and passionate that I nearly lost my balance-

_Anger, rage, fury, agitation-_

Out of all emotions, I hated feeling others' anger the most: it was a terrifying sensation, like speeding down a steep hillside of traffic with no way to stop. All my life I'd worked on finding a way to steer the anger I felt from others, and I had never been successful- it just knocked me off my feet and into a panic attack.

Instead it was just me behind the wheel of a huge SUV careening down Mount Everest.  
>That sickening feeling of falling and imminent destruction.<p>

My stomach lurched in a threat of evacuation.

I guided myself down to the floor and sat staring off to the far wall.

_"No, annwyl*, process it- process what you're feeling, what you're receiving from others. Process it like a computer: observe, assess, and organize."_

Mam had always said I was more talented than she was, but Mam always underestimated her incredible ability to endure extreme, chaotic emotions and still _function _rather than just-

"I'm going to throw up-," I gasped, glancing around the cell and finding no trash can or toilet. "Where- where do I-?"

No time, take your best option.

My eyes and mouth watered painfully before I managed to bend over a small, black compartment in the back of the cell to hack and gag, choke and cough until I thought I was going to pass out from lack of breath.

"_That _is your drawer for personal effects," Spock spoke coolly.

Between the globs of disturbingly-bright colored sick, I could see a hair brush, a small mirror, a new pair of socks, and a bottle of some kind of soap.

At least it wasn't some expensive piece of 23rd century technology that they'd want me to pay for- I didn't have any money.

There was another terrifying realization that made me feel even more naked.

I leaned over the drawer again for round two.

"The large button on your left labeled '_Lavatory' _ would have been a better choice..." Spock turned from me. "...or the button marked '_Refuse'._ Both fold out these amenities from your cell walls. Officer Atch'axah, would you take two Ondans out of the med kit for Miss Averly?" Spock requested.

I lied down on the floor, feeling the cool tile under my back.  
>Tile? Whatever it was...<p>

I slid the soiled drawer closed with my foot.

-  
><em>Behind heavy gray doors, faces distorted and peeling like bloody, red wax.<em>_  
><em>_I could hear screams both distant and close by me all at once._

_The loud sounds of desperate fighting and tearing in the cells on either side of me._

_Bodies were bloating and bulging, then bursting into giant, sticky blobs of blood, blobs of bone, which landed on the ground and formed into huge, white spiders that limped, lopsidedly toward me._

_"_ _Jānama*, no, Jānama, shhh."_ _Khan was whispering to me in a soothing tone, rocking lightly back and forth. _

I woke screaming- all the more surreal because my body wasn't acting under my commands. I was screaming and hitting him as hard as I could, kicking and attacking him.

But it had as much effect as a toddler banging his fists on your chest.  
>At least that was a relief.<p>

" Jānama," Khan gripped me hard by the shoulders, pressing his fingers into my muscles to distract my senses."Nightmare, it was a nightmare." 

_I was coiled tight like a spring or a wild animal. _

_"_ _It's alright, Jānama. I'm here." _

Too weak to speak, I leaned against him but my body wasn't willing to release my muscles, which were still convinced I was in "fight or flight".

_"How-how long does- how long can this last?" I managed in a shivering breath. "The- these symptoms of those fucking shots?"_

_Khan kissed the crown of my head and maneuvered us both back against the lumpy mattress._

_He never answered my question._

With the hell I had gone through due to the Augment injections- the madness, despair, and bloodshed I'd seen from others who'd been injected-

I had to marvel how these people would rather have their captain alive via the shots rather than peacefully dead.

Maybe they hadn't learned from history-

Maybe my time was now like the Dark Ages-

Mysterious and poorly recorded.

"A'dilei*," Officer Atch'axah beckoned to me. "Place these strips on your tongue; they will banish your sickness."

I liked Atch'axah. There was a kind but firm set in her soft, blue face. Her hair was long, periwinkle dreadlocks she often tangled in her fingers when she was bored or stressed.

I hadn't learned where she was from, why she called me "A'dilei", or how she understood me so well.

She looked around my age, but since she was an alien, I guess she could be centuries old and I wouldn't have any idea.

From day to each day, Atch'axah was effortless camouflage which had, at first, made it difficult for me to trust her- but there was some type of creed she lived by- and spreading information, engaging in conversation- none of those were among the rules she chose as her lifestyle.

But aiding this military- _federation_, whatever they were- aiding their cause was not just her job, it was her passion and her life.

I could feel that much burn off of her like a bright flame.

I guess that's why Spock chose to come have this chat with me while Atch'axah was on duty in the Brig- only her, no one else.

"Medicine, A'dilei," Atch'axah called.

I managed my way to the circular portal in the cell's door and took two plastic squares that looked like the wrappers for hand wipes at a BBQ restaurant.

There was barely a moment of me staring quizzically at the tiny packages before:

"Peel open," Atch'axah instructed, gesturing to show me. "Place blue strips upon your tongue and the nausea will be banished."

Her English wasn't quite right, but she still good at it.

"...Thank you..." Reluctantly, I put the medication in my mouth.

The strips were thinner than anything I had ever felt or _could _feel.

Within a few seconds, they had dissolved on my tongue with practically no taste whatsoever.

"Is further medical assistance necessary?" Spock asked me.

Dammit, we'd taken a dozen steps backward-

His calm was laced with distance and chill.

Now he was less likely to listen to me.

Atch'axah waited for a nod from Spock before returning to her station at the large, circular desk in the middle of the jail.

"I'm sorry-," I began. "-I didn't mean that I-I wished your captain were dead, Mr. Spock, I just- the injections are horrific, it's hard to-"

Getting cold...

"-hard to imagine _any _circumstance-"

Colder, _very cold._

I paused for breath and let the words settle in my mind before I spoke.

"You did what you had to and I understand that," I finally managed. "You do what you have to for your friends- and your captain," I sat back on the floor.

_Getting warmer._

"I'd do the same thing for my friends and my-," I couldn't finish the sentence. Partially because I hated the reminder that my loved ones were gone.  
>Partially because the emotions from the crew were getting too erratic.<p>

_/Rage, rage, fury._

_Fear, fear, entitlement._

_"Get Singh off our ship! GET SINGH OFF OUR SHIP!"/_

I shook my head.

That had to be a crossed wire- memory mixing with the present-

"Your people are going crazy," I commented, biting my thumb tightly in distress.

There was that feeling again- SUV speeding down Mount Everest-

"It's really bad, they want me off the ship."

Outside of America, few people had ever referred to me by my married name.

The tensions on the ship continued to escalate-

_/"This isn't a choice-."__  
><em>_"Kirk can't force her on us like this-."_

_"We can march his ass out of his quarters ourselves if we have to!"/_

"No, no, no, no, no," I took a sharp breath, bending my head into my lap as I rocked lightly.

Mam had always been so good at blocking out others' signals-

_-_  
>"Build a brick wall around yourself and imagine all the feelings bouncing off the wall."<p>

"What if I still feel people?" I had asked.

"Use more mortar, more brick. For every reading that sneaks through your wall, you add another layer of brick."

"Wrenne?"

_Mortar, brick._

_Mortar, brick._

"Wrenne, are you alright?" Spock insisted.

"Something bad is going to happen," I shook hard like water affected by footsteps. "Your crew is freaking out. It's going to pop, this situation is going to pop just like a balloon-."

_/"Not on _our _ship!"_

_"Drag her out of that fucking brig-!" /_

Mortar, brick.

Mortar, brick, mortar, brick-

_/"I won't kill him quickly..."_

This strain strummed a chord straight to my core- whoever this was- their emotions were so genuine, so strong-

_"I won't kill him quickly, I meld him into building his own hell and pry his ribs open so he has to watch the blood pumping through his heart while he tries to lift this damn ship over his head-."/_

And Kirk's especially emotional nightmare was intensifying.

"The captain-!" I accidentally kicked against the cell's transparent front wall- no electrocution, just a ripple of stiff plastic. (How the hell does that work?)

"Tell me," Spock was watching me carefully.

Again, I was shocked to see him take me so seriously.

"Everyone- they're hysterical-_- _someone or some people want to- hurt other- people- I don't think the captain is safe-." I gave my dark hair another harsh tug, running into a wave of emotions that would drown me for sure. "_I'm _not safe, but- someone wants to hurt the captain, someone- someone is planning _specifically _and _passionately_ to- hurt the captain- probably-."

Spock flipped open what looked like a slim cell phone and spoke into it.

My chest felt tight and the seconds were painful- all the brick and mortar I'd built might as well have been sinking into my sternum.

"Wrenne-," Spock began when he finished his call- but there was only so much stimuli I could process.

"_Go away!" _I screamed, throwing my hands over my head. "_Go away _and establish some _order _on your fucking ship!"

The usual panic and overwhelming emotion rose in my chest, digging its metal talons into my throat-

_Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop- _

_Mortar, brick, mortar, brick, mortar brick, mortar brick-!_

Spock placed his grasp inside the portal which closed tightly around his arm as he took my hand in his.

The towering tidal wave of knives and pins and sharp things slowly melted into warm liquid metal.

_Harmless, _warm, liquid metal.

I welcomed the calm, ran toward it eagerly, grasped it like a tether in a storm-

And happy memories brushed against me- memories I couldn't reach (still so high on that shelf) but ones that were familiar, hot, and comfortable- I couldn't reach most of those memories, but one _did _manage to plop into my lap-

That day in Palmyra, the meadow with the daisies- flowers Khan had never seen before- and I had felt his chest spasm and tickle with laughter- one of the final times I could forget our hands were stained with blood and war-

But the memory, _my _memory- that day in Palmyra with the daisies and the loving whispers-

-the memory had fingerprints smudged all over it.

I snapped my eyes open and slapped Spock's hand away.

Those new fingerprints on a memory I had barely recalled-

They _weren't_ my own.

At some point in time, Spock had managed his way around my thoughts and memories to this most private piece of my life-

"You bastard- you _bastard!_" I yelled, kicking his arm away- eventually my foot accidentally slammed down on his hand- the Brig immediately lit up with red flashing lights and a piercing siren.

Atch'axah had been watching us.

Her timing was impeccable.

The portal spat Spock's arm back out of the cell.

The portal locked itself shut.

"That was my_ private_ and _treasured _memory of my _dead_ husband and you purloined it?!_" _I shouted over the alarm, ignoring the security officers who were trailing in, closing around my cell. "Decided to just pop in and take a peek?! Did you think I wouldn't _notice_ someone else had handled a scene from my life? I didn't fuck around with _your_ head! - And you might as well be an open book to me, _Commander!_" I lied.

I wasn't good at sending mental messages but for this, I made the effort:  
><em>It's just a matter of time before I decipher you.<em>

"Back away from the force field, 73," A deep, military tone ordered me. "The force-field is now destabilized _and_ electrified. Do _not _step forward. If you _do _step forward, you _will _be electrocuted. Back away from the force-field and place your hands on the left wall, shoulder-width apart! _NOW!_"

I didn't hate cops but I _was_ terrified of them. I told my body to scramble into the aforementioned position but my limbs struggled sluggishly under the stress of the crew's emotions

With tensions already so taut on the ship, kicking their first commanding officer wouldn't exactly ease their paranoia...or soothe the shrieking emotions on board that ripped gashes deep inside me.

I didn't mean to catch his hand under my foot- I shouldn't have been kicking so violently- I shouldn't have gotten carried away, upset as I was-

Once I stood as they had instructed me, the security officers flooded around inside the cell, bobbing like blood drops in those red uniforms- looked like blood coming up from a wound.

_**{ To be continued in Weaving Stage IX: Order }**_


	5. Chapter Five, Weaving Stage III Pt 1

_**{ Weaving Stage III: The Savage Order }**_

_**Chapter Five Pt. 1, "First Names & Middle Names"**_

Joachim* and Khan walked purposefully down a hallway that was bright and lined with long windows, almost as if the IIT were defiantly bucking any attempts at secrecy.

"-mostly Joan, Beth, Helen- then Chavez and Lopez too, but I doubt they'll act on it," Joachim cracked his knuckles anxiously.

"They're young and headstrong," Khan answered. "Cubs trying to assert their positions. We'll keep batting them down, they'll fall into place as usual."

Joachim nodded, pausing before he added tentatively, "But in my opinion, Joan and Helen are ticking time-bombs, khan*."

Khan cursed passionately, "So fucking reckless- but it's only jitters...Once the Intake comes, they'll move out of '_reaction' _ and into_ 'action'_. The new order, the new 'normal', will help them settle down."

He thought for a moment, his expression a rippling reflection of his thought process. "It's these constant, _blatant_ acts of individuality that could get them Gray Juiced*- Chavez and Lopez too..."

They rounded a corner and Khan grabbed Joachim by the shoulder, his lowered voice somber as he ordered, "Look in on Bouhler*, Keniclius*, and Dr. Singh- make sure _no one _is thinking of terminating our girls. Talk to Etta, she wants to comfort everyone, that will bring some peace to the young- Stripes* and Gray-Juicing are very painful to witness in the beginning."

Joachim acknowledged, giving a small salute as he walked ahead; he turned when he noticed Khan was lingering behind.

"Aren't you coming?" He asked, rolling his shoulders in an attempting to shake off other worries. "After med check-ups, everyone will want to be briefed on the Intake, and then there's still the Georgia assignment."

"Later," Khan dismissed him with his regal stance and a wave of his large hand. "I have more recon on our 73, this Intake...Just keep an eye on the girls and the twins."

Joachim shuffled restlessly. "If you keep missing the med exams, they'll-."

_"I know what I am doing,_ Joachim," He asserted authoritatively. "Bouhler can come after me if he wants to, but I'm quite sure the twins have already torn out the battery of his motorized wheelchair."

Joachim snickered- but as he turned away, he spared Khan a concerned glance from over his shoulder.

Khan waited for the hall door to hiss closed behind Joachim before he moved toward a small door. It was partially obstructed by a column _and_ in one of the rare blind spots of the security cameras, so few people ever gave the closet a second thought.

Except him, and one other.

Inside, between two large water-heaters, there was barely room for two people.

Once the closet door was securely closed, Wrenne moved out of the shadows and threw her arms around his neck. Khan took her fragile frame in his arms, cupping the back of her head in his hand to bring her face close, so close to his for an eager kiss.

Always a desperate meeting- satisfying once Khan finally felt her soft lips against the chapped skin of his own. He heard Wrenne's heart rate spike, her breath catch in her lungs as he fiercely pressed her mouth open with his tongue. So wet and warm. They were parched for each other.

He inhaled, swallowed that incredible taste of woman- an indescribable scent, a taste of softness, sharpness and tartness like grass-

Her hands raked through his hair, again, desperate; greedily raking her nails down the line of his jaw- the light pain of her scratches so pleasing Khan sighed and she gave a satisfied, aroused murmur. The light marks on his skin quickly healed and vanished.

Wrenne trailed her fingers down to his chest where she sensually circled his nipples, nipping them, teasing them erect.

Damn, she knew he loved that.

_Khan pressed her against the tingling barrel of the water-heater- he wanted their hips close, to grind his body against hers- he was so eager, he popped the buttons on her uniform, shoving his large hands down her breasts- teasing her nipples between his thumb and forefinger- teasing her the way she had teased him._

_A gasp of surprise, a groan of unbridled arousal. His lips took her nipples and lightly rounded the hazel-colored circle with his teeth- a light, pleasing pain that rose Wrenne's back in an arch as he started to suckle._

_She crooked her clever fingers in his belt loops and undid his trousers. He pushed his hands down her jeans, popping open another button and pushing her pants below her hips- feeling the soft silk of her thighs against his bare skin- the hard pressure of his cock against-_

"Easy-" Wrenne was breathing ragged, her cheeks flushed as she ran her hands up his neck. "I'm still not very good at sending images...and besides that, we're going to drive each other crazy."

"Your mental messages have gotten so much stronger," He nibbled her earlobe.

"It's easier to send visuals than words..." She couldn't help but giggle, though it wasn't long before Wrenne's expression grew darker. "But all mental messages ave gotten more simple since- since they started the injections."

Just the mention brought tears to her light gray eyes.

"I'm sorry," Wrenne shivered, putting her face in her hands.

Khan took her in his arms and frowned-

-her body was so cold against his. He could feel the sharp, unnatural bony angles in her wrists, her hands, see the harsh crooks along her cheeks bones.

"Oh, Shere," Wrenne gave a lonesome, dry sob. So much was communicated in those two words.

He hadn't liked the nickname "Shere" when he had first heard it, but now that he was more accustomed to being called by a name rather than his code, he found it opened a door for intimacy to sweep in like a warm breeze.

And most intimacies were luxuries neither of them could afford.

Wrenne was tall for a _natural_ human, yet she still didn't even rise to the level of his heart. He dragged his lips along her chin, her cheeks, to where he could press his mouth against her ears and whisper: ""They're taking you, Wrenne. IIT will have you out of Re-Ed by the end of the week."

The ever-present fact- the necessity of secrecy never left him.

Talk _close_. Talk _softly_.

"Those images _already_ drove me insane," He referred to the erotic scene they had shared- if only in their minds. Khan buried his face in the crook of Wrenne's neck, brushing his cheek along her skin as he ran his kisses along the delicate, curved line of her throat.

"Me too," She pursed her lips in a cheeky, pleased smile. "Shere- can't we just find a way-?"

"_No_," Khan emphasized severely, placing a distance between their hips so resisting was more tolerable. "It is illegal for Augments to engage in intercourse unless-."

"I know, I _know, _you've told me the laws- but how would _they _know? If we're careful, there can't be-."

"Cerridwen, I would take you now," Khan placed his arms on either side of her, his voice seemed to take on an arousing, deep tone that vibrated with such passion that Wrenne felt her body vibrate pleasantly with every sound. "I'd do more than anything you could manage to send as a mental image. I'd make you mine, _brand_ you mine here in this drab closet or in the largest open field in your American frontier."

He looked her up and down with his tiger eyes blazing from behind his usual light irises; then backed away with a discouraged, frustrated expression.

"There are frequent, random medical examinations- practically every body part and fiber checked- Hayagriva _would_ manage to find the smallest strand of your DNA on me or vice versa- We have our chance to be together now...I'll tell you- my brothers and sisters- we have a plan. Trust me when I say we won't be living here much longer- so we'll wait- otherwise, we cannot afford the luxury of sex."

But Khan still kept hold of her and the few intimacies they could manage, kissing her gently, tucking her face delicately against his shoulder- but placing a distance between their hips that was easier for them both to tolerate.

Damn the luxury, damn the cost they couldn't afford, that they both couldn't rise to the desire in their hearts and bodies-

But luxury comes from civilization, and Hayagriva was a nation of savage eyes. Even in a utility closet, their privacy- their lives- were under the Sword of Damocles.

"They check you over _that _carefully?" Wrenne was shocked. "-But-but we've kissed, we've held each other- how haven't they already suspected-?" Wrenne began but Khan took over.

"They don't check you the way they examine _me_. I managed to combine chemicals into the IIT-grade hand soap which burn skin cells from my hands and lips-."

"Doesn't that hurt?" She gasped.

"You've seen how I heal," He reprimanded irritably. "It burns for a moment and then it's gone. Finally, the laundry soap takes care of any _dead _skin cells from touch-."

"_That_...is a strategy- you've really thought hard about this. You really _do _have a plan in the works..."

"Of course I do, I love you," He somehow said it with a matter-of-fact tone _and _his usual passion.

It didn't exactly come out of no where, though the timing wasn't how movies or books had described.

But it was still _perfect, _even if Wrenne's reply was late.

She had wanted to imprint his words into her memory.

"I love you, Shere," She slipped her arms around his chest and nuzzled her face against his chest.

Khan grumbled something- still frustrated, still pouting as he did when his plans were complicated by the government.

"What?"

"_Khan_," He specified.

"_You picked!_ You picked your name!" Wrenne nearly forgot to soften her voice as she jumped up and down excitedly- weak as she was, she managed one jump, but wobbled and fell the second time.

Khan noticed practically before she wobbled and caught her gently in his arms.

She was so unnaturally thin now that he worried it could be even easier for his grip to accidentally break one of her bones.

Her genuine, albeit unbridled, enthusiasm was infectious and as Wrenne peppered his cheeks with kisses, Khan chuckled and smiled, even spun her carefully in 3/4th of a circle which was all the space the little cupboard could make.

"-wait-," Wrenne paused and studied him. "-is that-? You're feeling _bashful! _Oh!" She whimpered happily.

"Talk _closely_, talk _softly_," He reminded her.

"You're _blushing, _oh my god, that is so adorable!" She giggled, pinching his cheeks tenderly and teasingly. "I love how the red bridges over your nose too!"

Khan rubbed his nose a little self-consciously but mostly in an attempt to bring out another delicate, feminine coo of Wrenne's.

"Rest assured, my name has nothing to do with that tiger of Kipling's-," Khan started with teasing agitation.

"I know, I know, it's because Noonien and Hiyachem always call you that-."

"Joachim," Khan corrected her. "_Hi-ah-kim-._"

"Wait what was_ that_- that dark, sad feeling there?_"_

"Nothing," He lied, then re-strategizing, he added: "...Nothing I want to discuss now."

"...Okay," Wrenne learned not to argue since the length of their rendezvous were always uncertain.

Talk _close_. Talk _softly- not a lot of time-_

"They had me in psych and 'ethic' exams all day and they don't seem happy- how can you be sure they'll transfer me at all?" She started to panic, her voice cracking. "I'm not a soldier, Sher- _Khan_," Wrenne corrected herself. "They have testing that proves it, they must, and I can't hide my morals from _all _their tests- but I _can't_ survive where I am and I won't survive in IIT-!"

"_Stop it_," Khan took a moment to grip her arms tightly. "You _have _survived and in IIT, you will_ live_ more than you will _survive_." He spoke passionately in the tone that braided lines of soldiers behind him. A voice that wrapped the mind in reassurance. A voice that made her picture Khan holding the world in his hand.

"Of all the abilities we have, empathy and mental talents are _not_ among them," Khan explained. "Dr. Singh knows- and since escaping China by the skin of their teeth, Bouhler and the entire government know as well- if they had had access to your talents, that massacre could have been avoided. Our understanding and manipulation of emotion is more limited than anyone expected- _you_ are our missing gear- a specialist in an area where we are lacking. They _will_ transfer you if only because failure or weakness on any level is unacceptable."

"But even if IIT takes me- I- I won't be able to kill someone."

He took her chin.

"You _can_."

Wrenne shivered and he felt himself grow defensive- because there was that side of himself that seemed to revolt the more delicate side of her- the _civilized _side.

"...but you won't have to," Khan lied.

_Persuade, persuade._

The need pulsed through his system-

_Persuade, persuade._

She was dying in that "education" bullshit. He could see the life and intellect draining from her face, more so each time they had their rendezvous. Wrenne's eyes were ringed with dark violet circles- her cheeks hallow, now her body so cold- the bones of her arms, chest, and neck protruded from her skin.

He had always worked to keep his people as far as possible from the Education block, despite Bouhler adjoining the building with IIT's just before Noonien's death.

_"What you think of as 'individuality' comes at a cost. Ignorance and education _also_ come at a cost._ This_," General Bouhler held up Noonien by his brown hair, gray matter* still matted into his scalp, a trickle of still moving from his ears. "…is the cost."_

The general paused to emphasize his point.

"_Lives are the cost," He continued. "_Order _is the cost. _I _am protecting_ the order here and if I must-" Bouhler cracked the neck of Noonien's corpse. "-snap some spines, so be it."

___Khan held Helen tightly against him to muffle her exclamation when she heard the bones crack. _

_There were 36 of his brothers and sisters in the room, but he could only hold one. _

_"_This was 451-9N_," Bouhler shouted, again holding up Noonien's head by the hair- though now the head dangled limply at a sickening angle."I_f I hear anymore of this 'nicknaming', I will placeevery one_ of you on this table!" _

He smacked the table's surface for effect.

_Once the company was excused, Khan lingered behind, plummeted over the white-padded table where Noonien laid, and stabbed Bouhler in the throat with the ballpoint pen the general always hooked in his front pocket._

_Khan stabbed deep, dug deep into the larynx, grinding the inkwell-pen's sharp tip into Bouhler's trachea.__  
><em>

_As Khan walked calmly out of the room, leaving a bloody handprint on the white door, he_ _could hear the blood and air gurgles from the pen's broken shaft as the general struggled to breathe where he laid, spasming on the floor._

_And that was when Khan chose his name_.

_Khan Noonien Singh._

It was a miracle that Wrenne's brains hadn't scrambled already- but if she was left in the brain-washing program, her death would be absolute- mentally _and_ physically; such genius, something so much _better_ would be wasted and gone.

Those eyes too, the intensity of such a light gray shade- her long, black hair- soft, olive skin- soft breasts that carefully hugged over a fluttering, ladybird heart.

It would all be gone.

The lightning strength that resonated from her touch, that kept her standing when her body would not stand.

Such power and command of emotion.

Her strange, intriguing perspective from a land claiming to be free.

And that scream- the war cry she'd screeched into the night when she'd emerged from the Satluj River- _there _was the sign of a warrior he would gladly mold.

It was why he hadn't been able to kill her.

In that dark night of thunder and shadow, he'd seen lightning burst from a girl covered with mud and defeat.

A sudden force so striking, that he now realized he had loved her ever since.

Such power and will to survive, courage and dedication to feeling emotions rather than trying to outrun them-

To possess such superior understanding of the psyche-  
>Even the geneticists hadn't been able to engineer such an ability in the race they had created.<p>

Invaluable. She was invaluable, and for more reasons than one.

Khan had calculated as such before he'd even perceived the beauty of her fragility, her delicate nature like no living thing he had encountered.

The gentility of her shocked, horrified reaction to things as common as death, murder, and war.

She had never been forced to live in a freezing demented world where all things were dying and killing and scheming just to guarantee another day of survival.

Yet now she had, and now she would continue to- but not without him beside her.

And not for much longer.

Wrenne shivered against him and Khan steadied her.

"Are you sure you don't want to talk about that grief I can read from-?"

"No, not today," Khan rubbed his forehead in stress.

"It was something t-terrible," Wrenne continued anyway, shaking from the intensity of his emotion. She would have gone on, but a yawn broke her last band of energy.

Khan kissed her forcefully again- felt her push against _his _push, as weak, exhausted, and starving as she was.

_There_ was where her war cries were- probably how they'd stayed alive in prison and then Re-Ed.

She could live in the savage order, he reassured himself. She _had _survived so far in the Ed building, and in IIT, living was rarely diminished to just surviving.  
>At least it seemed so to him.<p>

"I've made investments in you-," Khan declared. "I've bribed and persuaded every faction- even strangers have invested in you- deals they _cannot _afford to back out of."

Especially since the head Hayagrivan military officer, General Bouhler, was now wheelchair-bound and had to speak from a device he held to jagged stitches along his throat.

_**{ Continued in Weaving Stage III: The Savage Order, Pt. 2 "Last Names" }**_

Notes:

*Notes and Translations:

-*Joachim (Russian name), ah, Joachim... I always felt so sorry for the Joachim of WoK. Other than Khan himself, Joachim stuck out to me particularly more than the other semi-anonymous crew in WoK because Joachim dared to speak his mind and back-talk a man as complex, violent, and unpredictable as Khan. Because of this, I always imagined Khan and Joachim would be close friends and war buddies in their youth.

-*"khan", like in the notes on chapter four, "khan" is an ancient (Middle-Eastern, Asian, Eastern European) military or sovereign title. Ex., Kubla Khan, Genghis Khan.

-*"Gray Juiced", a colloquial term for a Hayagrivan form of torture and execution. See Khan's flashback to Noonien's death. Specifics will come as the story unfolds.

-*"He thought for a moment, his expression a rippling reflection of his thought process." Ugh, I couldn't come up with a better description than this...Ricardo Montalbán and Benedict Cumberbatch both showed such great expressions for Khan- whether they were the expressions he wanted you to see (fake and real) or the ones that you'd accidentally see when he'd lower his guard.(Example gif)

I'll work harder to come up with a better description...

-*Bouhler, since this character is quite- well- evil, I named him after Philipp Bouhler (11 September 1899 – 19 May 1945) who was a senior Nazi Party official. Together with Karl Brandt, he developed the Nazis' early euthanasia program in an attempt to pursue creating a "master race".

-*Keniclius, as in Dr. Stavos Keniclius, a scientist who lived during the Eugenics Wars on Earth (original timeline), according to Star Trek canon. He worked to clone a perfect specimen to create a "master race". While he wasn't ever directly connected to Khan, I figured since this is an alternate timeline I could mix things up a bit.

-*Stripes, by which I mean the old-fashioned lashings from a whip.

-*Gray matter, i.e. brains.


	6. Chapter Six, Weaving Stage IX Pt 1

_**{ Weaving Stage IX: Order }  
><strong>__Chapter Six, Pt.1_

_Secrecy does not come from the shadows. _

_Successful secrecy comes from light-  
>Pockets of light robed in the complacency of la vie quotidienne.<em>

_A bright corner that you pass every day-  
>What you see every day-<br>those are the truly hidden enclaves._

There _breeds secrecy, _there _breeds strategy. _

_And that's where he had lingered,  
>in the ordinary light<br>of the ordinary pockets in the starship Enterprise._

_Now was the day-  
>Finally the day-<br>To stir the pot._

_To stir the order askew. _

"Captain Kirk to conference room, '4C'. Captain Kirk to conference room '4C'."

Lieutenant Uhura's voice jolted Jim from his jostling slumber and dreams of strange images, strange people.

"Captain?" Uhura called from the comm on the clock on his bedside table. "Captain Kirk, come in. Captain Kirk-."

"Kirk here," He answered, pressing the comm button. "I'll be right there."

"There's an urgent streaming communication from Headquarters," She added tentatively. "But Captain- there's a more pressing matter coming from the Recreation Room. Scotty and the security officers should be there already but-." She took a wavering breath. "-I don't know if it can be handled by them alone..."

"Nyota-," Jim thought carefully before continuing. "-mutinous tension...?"

"In my opinion, Captain," He could hear the gravity Uhura's voice. "...a mutiny is _already_ underway."

"Understood."

"Captain, what can I do? What can I do to help?"

Kirk thought for some time before answering, "Respond to headquarters for me. Send the message that tensions on the ship have reached a peak. Request transfer of the prisoner immediately to the nearest station."

"Aye, Captain."

There was the familiar pip, sounding the end of communication.

Jim flipped his legs out of bed, grabbing his uniform trousers and tunic when the comm pip beeped again.

"Mr. Spock?" Kirk guessed.

"It's Scott, captain."  
>There was a loud crackle and spike of background noise, background voices.<p>

"I'm on my way to the Rec," Kirk spoke as he dressed. "Has anything turned physical?"

"_Would you lot shut your fucking gobs already!_" Scotty's voice managed to shout over the clamor. "Nah' yet, but it could be anytime now. Even the security back-up I ordered have aff an' disappeared."

Tensions had never been this chaotic, not on_ his_ ship, not under _his_ command.

Not even yesterday had things been so bad.

"Any idea as to how things spiked over night?" He asked.

"Ah, it ain't exactly morning, captain-."

Jim checked the clock-  
>He'd only been asleep for two hours.<p>

"This mince started 'aff around 100 hours," Scott continued. "Seems to be over 73. Some bastart leaked the information that Khan is her husband- now everyone's gone all radge!"

"I'll be right there," Jim ended the communication when almost immediately the pip sounded again.

"Captain," Spock's voice came through again.

"I know, Spock, I'm coming right now," Jim picked up the mobile comm and spoke into it as he entered the hall- which was abandoned and eerily calm.

"I should inform you that I am not in the Recreation Room," Spock informed him. "I am attending to an important objective in the Brig."

"_What?_" Kirk snapped. "_Dammit, Spock!_ I need you to use your Vulcan calm-down shit to try to influence the crew!"

"This is an important pursuit, Captain. I will report to the Recreation Room as soon as possible. We are transferring Averly to Sick Bay and-."

"Is she trying to escape?" Jim asked.

"No."

"Has she crushed a someone's skull with her bare hands?"

"No, Captain." 

"Then_ get to the fucking Recreation Room, _Spock! Focus on her later! And makes sure Bones is at the Rec too or at least on his way." Kirk slammed the comm closed so hard the device made a cracking sound.

Spock ignored the order and turned back to Wrenne who was being patted down by various security officers following established procedures.

He tapped his hand-held comm again. 

"You've got McCoy," Bones' voice came up.

Spock turned away from the cell, walking toward the door of the Brig.  
>"Doctor, we have a situation in-."<p>

"I know all about it, Spock," He replied quickly, sounding out of breath. "I'm getting there now. Scotty says it's a superficial wound but I'm bringing extra staff and the full med kit just in case."

"What has happened to Mr. Scott?" Spock demanded. 

"He's been stabbed," Leonard's voice was weary and thin. "They don't know who did it yet, but Litige has also been wounded by a phaser shot. Get your green-blooded ass down here, alright?"

"I am coming immediately," He responded. "In the meantime, I am having Wrenne transferred to Sick Bay-."

"Good idea, she'll be safer there," McCoy puffed, running footsteps sounded in the background. "Have the officers take her there immediately- leave her with Lorel'ei- Officer Atch'axah," He corrected himself.

"A large security detail is following procedure now. There was a brief..." Spock hesitated briefly. "_scuffle_-."

"981H Procedure?!" Leonard exclaimed. "Spock- they _can't _fulfill that procedure- get the detectors bands _as far from her as possible!"_

"Why-," Spock wasn't able to finish his question.

"It will _endanger her life, Spock!" _He paused briefly before adding: "It will endanger _two _lives."No radiation- no gamma rays or anything like that-."

Spock heard Bones take a deep breath, "_No _radiation, _no _gamma rays-."

"Understood. Spock out."

He strode quickly to Wrenne's cell.

"Stand aside," He ordered urgently. "_Stand down_, remove _all_ bracers and detectors immediately-Officer Larkin- remove the company _now._" Spock plucked the black batons and bands that he could reach, throwing them far from the cell.

"But Commander-," Larkin looked at him, startled.

"Commander Spock gave you an order, Officer," Atch'axah spoke with piercing purpose.

She already had an armful of bracers, detectors, shackles, and batons, her small frame bobbing quickly out of the cell.

Spock spared a glance after her.

Atch'axah always managed such efficiency, blending well into the crew while remaining true to her Syng heritage.

Her white eyes- those snow light eyes framed by delicate, dark blue lashes- they always held the proper balance of duty and integrity. Her skin that calming shade of blue.

Atch'axah turned back toward Wrenne's cell, motioning for the other security officers to file out when his glance caught hers.

Spock looked away, nodding approval in her direction.

A twinkle of periwinkle flushed across the bridge of Atch'axah's nose as she gently approached Wrenne, who was standing by the left cell wall, cradling her head in her hands.

"A'dilei," Atch'axah took her arms. "Come with me."

Wrenne shook her head tiredly, "I didn't- I-I didn't mean to hurt anyone."

"I have the herbs to ease the Vespers," She explained softly. "The emotions and thoughts will be much muffled." Atch'axah gently closed the electric handcuffs around Wrenne's wrists, then guided her carefully from the cell.

Suddenly Wrenne snapped to attention-  
>"Wait- wait- where are you taking me-?"<p>

"Sick Bay," Spock answered.

He couldn't find anything else to say. All he could think:

A child.

_A child._

_**{ Next, Weaving Stage III: The Savage Order Pt. 2 }**_

Notes and Translations:

-"A'dilei", Syng word meaning "priestess"; a title from the Syng culture given to those with Wrenne's abilities.


	7. Chapter Seven, Weaving Stage III Pt 2

_**{ Weaving Stage III: The Savage Order, Pt.2 }**__**  
><strong>__**Chapter Seven**_

Khan and Wrenne leaned against one of the water-heaters in the tiny closet, sinking to sit on the ground as they usually did during their clandestine meetings.

"I can't believe you've had to live your life in a world like this," Wrenne thought aloud, running a hand up Khan's cheek. "without love."

"Love is not a need," He shrugged his shoulders, accidentally reciting the answer that had been branded into his mind all his life.

"Sex is on Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs*," Wrenne pointed out. "Frankly, not having you right now is nearly maddening. How have you lasted like this? Without sex and love?"

"We have sex, that need is met," Khan sighed.

Wrenne rested her head on his chest and he rested a hand on the warm, sloped shelf of her breasts. From a simple body part he could feel not just physical attraction but the intimacy, the satisfaction, the comfort- even without skin contact.

"If you can't have sex with each other, than how does that work?" She looked at him skeptically.

"Sex is lower on the _Hayagrivan_ hierarchy of needs," Khan commented, eluding her question.

"Obviously, or we wouldn't be hiding in a utility closet like a couple of fifteen-year-olds."

"So American teenagers tuck themselves away in cupboards to- what did you call it?"

"'Making out,'" Wrenne chuckled softly. "...so then what did you do during adolescence?"

"What?" Khan glanced at his watch, which was counting down the time for their rendezvous.

"If it's illegal to sleep with other Augments, how the hell did you deal with the hormones?"

"It is only_ 'illegal'_ to engage in intercourse with other Augments, or outside the requirements of an assigned target or sexual examination."

He cursed under his breath.

He had meant to bite off the last three words but he had been too late.

Wrenne had stiffened immediately.

"_What the fuck?_" She exclaimed, then hesitated, asking in a softer, more sensitive voice, "What do you mean _'sexual examination'?_"

"An assessment of sexual functions," He answered coolly. "They won't tolerate weakness or failure in any manner."

"You mean they-?"

"It is_ not_ pleasant information," He moved away, angrily rising from the floor.

"But can't you-." Wrenne tried again, standing up beside him, but Khan was just as quick to interject-

___"No!"_

"But _what_does-."

Khan grabbed her violently by the wrist, he felt the bones and tendons crunch together under his strength.

He held Wrenne so tightly just from one hand's grasp; she slumped to her knees, practically limp in his grasp as if he were sucking the very life from her.

"Do_ NOT_ ask because I will _not_ tell you!" He ordered angrily, shaking her aggressively from the wrist.

Wrenne's stubborn glare flickered with fear, shrinking away from him.

"I'm _not_some fragile doll you can just-." She tried to jerk her body from his hold and-

_-snap._

"Ah!" She whispered a whimper of pain, her breathing ragged as Khan let Wrenne slip her arm from his grip. "Ah..."

She gasped from the sharp, stabbing sensation- her whole body seemed to scream an alarm. She bent over her broken wrist, trying to calm her breathing.

Khan had felt the bone about to give, but he hadn't managed to release her in time.

"I _told_you _not_to ask-," He began when Wrenne used her whole, _intact_ hand to smack him hard across the face, hard enough to spread a burning tingle along his augmented cheeks.

Now her only good hand throbbed and pumped painfully.

She'd never hit someone so fiercely before- and Wrenne was surprised that such a hit, one she had put her whole 130 something pounds into, didn't even move his head. It just jostled his dark hair across his forehead.

Shere Khan cocked his head ever so slightly, looking up at her from half-lidded, feral eyes that glinted an insight indecipherable, even to her.

So Wrenne smacked him again as hard as she could, throwing in the force of her whole body so that she fell off balance.

Khan caught her immediately.  
>Small tears started running down her cheeks.<p>

_Why had she hit him twice?__  
><em>_Why had she hit him at all?_

She didn't push Khan away as he delicately straightened her onto her feet again.

Why was she still here? This hell hole imagined from some mangled nightmare of Dante and Ray Bradbury's-

_"This_," Khan finally spoke. "is a savage land. You're too delicate for this place."

He held her broken wrist in a careful position that would bring her the most relief.

"I am _not_ delicate and I am _not_ weak, you son of a bitch!" Wrenne tried to convey her anger despite the sob that was overtaking her system. "I _won't_ be- be handled or forced or _'persuaded'_ anymore!" She struck him again, meaning to only whack his chest but accidentally landing her hit firm against his jaw.

Only his dark locks wisped to the other side of his head, more skin reddening from the strike- but otherwise, there was no signs of violence.

Khan looked at her with a blank expression Wrenne didn't want to read.  
>Those eyes the color of heavy clouds about to snow.<p>

"...I'm sorry," She whispered, covering her mouth with her broken joint, shivering with pain. She took her other hand to gently caress the light red mark on his face- the only trace of her rage, and it was already vanishing, healing. "I'm sorry- but _why_did you-?! I've never thought- let alone you-."

"Hayagriva," Khan spoke softly, trailing his long fingers down her cheek, beside the tear streaks. "It breeds savages."

She buried her face into his chest and he wrapped an arm around her lightly, holding her broken wrist in the tight brace of his hand.

Khan was silent and Wrenne wondered what he was thinking.

He was wondering over the strange comfort that came in finding savagery in Wrenne. And simultaneously- the painful, wringing feeling that came from finding it had escalated since he first met her.

"...Would your country be willing to extract you?" Khan finally asked.

'I'm still _so_fucking mad at you," Her voice shook in anger and hurt. "that I'm not ready to start talking yet."

"Wrenne, _listen to me,_" He gripped her shoulder with his free hand. "_Would_ they come fetch you if you were out from beyond The Second Curtain? In a more amicable country?"

"I-I don't know," She sighed, exasperated. "America was falling into an economic depression the last-the last time I was home..."

Wrenne thought for a moment.

"I don't think we have the money- and I'm not important enough," She pointed out, sucking air in through her teeth, trying _not_ to focus on the pain. "Famous journalists and entire commercial airplanes have vanished behind The 2nd Curtain and we couldn't afford to investigate..."

"But American media..." Khan thought aloud. "American media is the most_ persuasive_ weapon in the world..."

"My parents are dead," Wrenne went to wipe her tears with her sleeve but Khan caught them with his thumb and gently brushed them away. "There's no one to make a fuss over me."

"Yes there is," Khan pointed out, irritated by her oversight.

"Well, of course _you_but..."

"Your country's ideals and outrage will vouch for you too. Americans are _passionate_, their 'righteous' type of rage has moved empires..."

There was a glint in Khan's eye again- the same one Wrenne had seen the day Noonien and he had transferred her to Re-Ed, or today just moments before when Khan had said his brothers and sisters "had a plan".

That glint in his eyes- like an eerily, unnaturally bright sun on a snowy day.

"What are you planning...?" She asked cautiously, slightly backing away from him.

This side _did_ frighten her somewhat- the side of Khan that broke her wrist, that schemed to do who knows what to get her out of "re-education"- but also the side that had lowered his weapon and let her go, that hadn't struck back when she had hit him, who greeted her sexuality with arousing growls.

Unpredictable, reckless passion that could risk his own life and probably many others.

Destroy or form whole planets.

The Shere-Khan side that reminded her this was an expertly trained hunter.

She didn't even really know him- it had only been two months.

An irritated twinge from her heart.

___Not true_.

Her cynical, defensive side claimed she didn't know him at all- while her instinct said she somehow knew him better than the 72+ people constantly surrounding him.

"Jānama*," He reached out his hand to her.

There...the first use of what would be his pet name for her.

Wrenne looked at his long fingers, feeling like Christine Daaé standing before the Phantom in the mirror.

She studied him, then took his hand and placed her head as close to his heart as she could.

He easily pressed his lips against her ear to whisper:  
>"When living as a savage, you <em>must<em> be_ important_ to survive. If you aren't necessary, you will die." Khan paused to let the severity of the truth sink in. "I can make you important- but it will hurt for a a few weeks."

Wrenne knew this was Khan asking her if she would allow this- whatever the plan was to make her "important".

She _could_ survive as a savage, she reasoned. Hadn't she already? After all, she had attacked him too- but still-

"Why the fuck did you hurt me in the_ first_ place!" She demanded, the anger finally bubbly up to her lips. She smacked his chest half-heartedly.

Khan was quiet.

"...It was an accident," He finally answered.

She felt the sadness and intense emotion wrack through her body like a windstorm- a memory- _memories _she could sense but not see or perceive.

"I forget how _fragile_you are..." Khan though aloud.

His emotions were always so passionate and sudden, like a child's.

Wrenne gripped his shirt with her good hand as she slumped, exhausted, to the ground.

Khan wasn't surprised- he had helped her through other waves before. It was incredible to watch a process he had never seen- emotion so raw within that it actually altered the physical body's functions.

A study and skill that would definitely be useful to the Intelligence and Infiltration Task-force.

Khan lied her down as much as he could in the tiny closet, her upper body leaning against his chest. He propped her legs carefully around the large tubes of the water heaters, one hand still holding her broken wrist.

"Khan," Wrenne finally whispered, running a hand up his neck. "...What did they_ do_ to you?"

"_They_ may have made me," He spoke, though he sounded as if he were far away in a corner of his mind. "...but_ I__made_ _myself_. _I_made myself _important_, so I have lived._ I_ gave myself a life, and I do the same for those I love."

"Those you love?" It had never occurred to her who those people would be specifically. "Your crew- and your parents?"

"Obviously, I have no parents," Khan glanced down at her irritably. "I was conceived and grown in a petri dish...like a_ virus_ or a_ mold..._but I love my brothers, my sisters- my crew in IIT, and you, Jānama." He carefully squeezed her a little tightly against him.

"They're- they're your _biological_siblings? The IIT- all 72 of them?"

"Most of them," He nodded. "I was the first of my gene pool to be constructed and completed successfully, so they used the same strand of genetics to forge most of my crew. We share most of the same genetics, we are family. But those who come from different strands- other than Etta- I have never met any of them. The different strands cannot fraternize. Dr. Singh and his assistants worked on us- that is, their projects for years- going through numbers and the English alphabet to categorize them.  
>"They passed from 'A' to 'Z' repeatedly before me. Singh was the one who coined them 'strands', and there were nearly sixty years' worth of them. '435-7K'- strand 4,357. The letter was pure chance, the numbers specify the strand and date I originated from."<p>

"Khan..." The question had never occurred to her before, but now she asked. "How old are you?"

"64," He replied easily. "I was 'born' in 1943."

"Joachim-?"

"Second eldest, categorized 475-8J, strand 4,758. He came in 1961."

"Joaquin?"

"Fourth eldest, 484-0J, strand 4,840 born 1967."

"And Etta? She's from a different strand?"

Khan nodded,  
>"Yes, she has- for one reason or another- been organized with us. Her categorized strand is classified beyond even her own knowledge. She is my sister nonetheless.<p>

"...So we were given codes," He continued. "Dr. Singh was the one who actually tried to give us _proper_ names, though the superior authorities crippled him for it."

_"Literally?"_

"You've never seen Singh, have you? They extracted an entire sample from his brain and purposefully left a large scar along here to remind him." Khan gestured from up his left jaw, across his forehead and down the back of his head. "Whatever they did in that procedure permanently affected his short-term memory and language function...among other things. It even stunted his hair growth, keeping him with a buzz cut like the prisoners in the Euthanasia Block so he doesn't forget who 'holds' his life. But it's a fucking bluff, they'd never kill him."

"Oh holy shit-," Wrenne breathed. "How can he still _function?_"

She was surprised as she felt a Khan's strong flare of fear and concern for Singh.

Even stronger was Khan's admiration of him.

"He's a genius- aside from his forgetfulness and inflicted speech impediment, he remains a genius and made himself a survivor, that is how he lives," He stated with pride. "Watching him taught me that _I_make myself and if _I_made myself- my loved ones- important, we...we would survive too.

"Singh always wanted to name us after famous icons in history. You know now that Bouhler shut that down violently."

"The head _general _Bouhler?" Wrenne asked again.

"Yes."

"...So Joachim and _everyone_ else- they came from strands after yours? And they endure- all this? No names, life-endangering missions and- 'sexual examinations?'"

Wrenne felt a sting of guilt and fear for breaching the dangerous subject.

"Yes. All of us. Some believe in the purpose of our missions, though we despise the authorities."

"Why do you do it? Why do you participate in these '_assignments' ,_ these examinations?" She paused. "Were you- you weren't raped, were you?" She tightened her hand on his.

"No," He looked away, describing it all rather casually. "As in other examinations we go under, physical and mental, they test our limits to assure efficient function." Khan's lips crooked up in a small smile. "All sexual exams except for two which are strictly medical were abandoned after I tightened the order in this place."

"What did you do?" Wrenne looked at him incredulously.

Khan regained his military composure, "_None_ of this is pleasant information. It's savage history."

"I don't care. Tell me. You_ broke_ my fucking wrist over the subject, I deserve to know why...and I- I don't want you to have to carry all of this alone."

Khan gave her a complex look- as if trying to read a language he'd never seen before.

"When we develop into sexuality," He began, reciting as if from a book. "We are instructed in sex, seduction by touch, and by words...the sway sexuality can have over individuals, the power sex can reign over people and alliances. _Kama Sutra_ and other things with the Harem class."

"Harem- you mean _prostitutes?_"

"_Consorts_," Khan corrected. "The Harem is an upper class here. They watch the country through hookah smoke and lighted incense, opium, fine wine...The Harem men and women find us entertaining, beautiful, godlike. More like _pets_," His face contorted into a passionate thunderstorm. He recomposed himself before continuing, "If one of us favors someone from the Harem class or vice versa, there are certain interactions and eventually a pleasant tumble for both partners. It helps the government reign us in from mingling with one another- 'muddying' the genetics they've slaved over- and specialists can interview the Harem individuals after certain rendezvous to assure proper sexual functions."

"...No one against their will?" She asked tentatively. Wrenne could sense there was something dark climbing to the front of his thoughts.

"No."

The dark thing climbed out and lingered between them.

"...Are you certain you want to know this?"

"Yes," Wrenne tucked her good arm around his torso. "If- if America _does_ manage to 'extract' me, I want to tell the world...what they're doing to you, to your brothers and sisters so no one else will be-."

_"I will not have this information spread!_" He ordered, looking down at her with that thunderous expression.

"Alright," She replied. "It's your- pain. You don't have to share it at all if you don't want."

"I've never wanted to repeat this," He pondered. "...but it is best for you to know the risks in this country. The men and women who are your captors, the savages who are your...superiors. The knowledge..." He sighed. "...may help in the planning for your extraction."

After a moment Khan continued:

"General Bouhler once attempted to measure my potential skill for sexual violence as I was the eldest. I supposed they wanted to know the extent of their first successful weapon."

Wrenne felt herself choke on her own breath, Khan's suppressed emotions shaking through her body and mind. She tightened her hold on his hand.

"Before they brought the woman in," Khan described. "I cracked the necks of the medical attendants who were trying to restrain us, and then I killed the assistant head-officer of genetics. I had fashioned a knife- one I still keep on me- and I used it to negotiate the woman's freedom in exchange for the life of the Lead Genetics Officer. They freed the girl, kept me, of course, and never attempted such an 'examination' again. I still killed the Lead Officer to maintain my resolve, my message. Those types of negotiations must be sealed with blood, standard battle logic.  
>"No one could best me in hand-to-hand, even as a teenager," Khan raised that regal mantle again. "After the deaths of 19 medical officers and 24 other commanders, they found I could not be caught as a victim either. I saved my brothers and sisters the experience and the bloodshed, since the 'sexual infiltration program' was exterminated after the deaths. I made those in authority <em>regret<em> their plans to hurt my family. And I would kill them all again, Wrenne."

She found herself shaking. No wonder the emotion wave had been so intense.

There was a long silence, and for once Wrenne felt a flare of insecurity from Khan.

"You did the right thing, Beloved," Wrenne found herself saying. "...You did the _only _right thing you could."

More heavy silence, but-

/relief, gratitude, relief/

"...It was an accident," He finally repeated, running a hand gently over her broken wrist, lowering his head in a sad but regal silhouette. She tenderly cupped his face in her hands despite the sharpening pain in her wrist.

Leaned her forehead against his.

/regret, humiliation/

"I understand," She whispered, transferred tears glittered her cheeks.

Khan's tears and her tears.

Wrenne couldn't hold off others' emotions, let alone such strong ones from the man she loved.  
>So she cried the tears he did not.<p>

"I love you, Jānama," He murmured, and there was a hitch in his breath, in his tone. The hint of a sob or a crest of more passion.

Again, it wasn't like the movies- he didn't take her hand and gesture grandly in front of thousands of people or gaze soulfully and dramatically into her eyes. He just spoke as they huddled together in a utility closet, her wrist broken and his face quickly recovering from the red marks her smacks had left-

-but it was more than enough.

"'_Beloved_'," Wrenne smiled at the term. "I love you." She paused. "I always thought you were some type of warrior prince in a Taj Mahal," She admitted, referencing a previous conversation. "You act like one."

"No. I am The_ Yuvarāja*-_ The _Prince_ of the_ Prisoners_," Khan raised his head, again, such royal stance outlined his movements. "...but not for much longer. I won't die before _I burn_ this government to the ground and erect some fucking _order- real__order_. Humans _need_ order, not torture. The world _needs_ order and there_ will be_ order."

At the time it had sounded so reasonable, so justified.

They were silent for a long time. Wrenne relaxed against his shoulder as the ferocity of Khan's vow echoed away.

"Harem," Her voice shook as she tried to speak. "-sexual exams-me-?"

"No, it doesn't work that way. Harem class, they are the wealthy and leisurely. They'll show interest in you, but if you rebuff their advances, they'll respect it. There are no more sexual exams, only medical and physical ones. I'll explain them to you later. It is much more reasonable than anything you've experienced in Re-Ed. Besides, I _would not_ allow you to endure _any_kind of sexual examination. We _were_ 72, _now_ we are 73. You will be one of us, and we will protect you."

"But you can't control it_ all!_" She protested weakly, still fatigued from the intense emotions that had raged through her. "How could you?"

43 people killed in the so-called sexual "examination", and who knows how young Khan had been when they had tried... Wrenne couldn't finish such a thought.

"Do you still trust me?" Khan asked- not out of insecurity, but rather seeking information.

She nodded.

"I _can_ control it all and I_ will_," He asserted, squeezing her so tightly that she squeaked to remind him of her broken wrist. "It all centers around the _'important'_, the_ 'better'_. The Important, the Superior survive. I will_ make_ you important- just as I did for myself, for my brothers and sisters...But- becoming Important is a _painful_ transition. Not many can withstand it, but I know _you_ can. The only _physically_painful part of this will be the wrist," He glanced down at her broken joint. "...and whipping respect from those around you in order to survive. If ever I were to have a Rājakumārī* of the Prisoners alongside me, it would be you. _Let me make you important._"

His voice, with that tiger timbre.

Shere Khan*.

"...Make me Important," Wrenne looked up at him, grazing his lips with her fingers before she kissed him.  
>Khan eventually broke away, affectionately brushing her bottom lip with his thumb.<p>

He bent to his ankle and pulled up his trouser leg, revealing a long, ivory knife strapped to his calf. Khan untying the weapon and carefully banding it around Wrenne's calf.

Sharp, polished and white- Wrenne knew it was the same knife that killed the Lead Genetics Officer, the knife that ransomed freedom.

"After this," Khan gently touched her broken bone. "The walls of Hayagriva_ will_ begin to crumble. No one will lay a hand on you...and you will _never_be a prisoner again. You are my Jānama. My 73...my one in 73."

_**{ Continued in Weaving Stage IV: The Superior & Important }**_


	8. Chapter Eight, Weaving Stage IX Pt 2

_**{ Weaving Stage IX: Order, Pt. 2 }**_

_"A _natural _child..."  
>Khan turned from the window and gave me one of his rare expressions of confusion, pensiveness- vulnerability. <em>

_"I've...," He hesitated."...always wanted to give someone- someone a _natural _birth, parents and a family..." _

Atch'axah led me to another Sick Bay bed and I fell exhausted against the mattress.

My breasts felt like hot, heavy stones- almost like each vein stung sharp with electricity.

Head was spinning and spiking an aching complaint.

And there were vibrations- vibrations from something I couldn't detect-

Something familiar, so familiar that I felt myself begin to panic over my desire recognize it.

McCoy entered the room with an extremely somber expression. It's weight nearly slowed his stride.

He gave me a concerned glance. "Are you doing alright, Wrenne?"

"Just- dizzy-," I murmured, perplexed and overwhelmed by his emotions.

/dread, sadness, regret  
>doubt, pity, resigned-

"I'll be with you in just a minute," the doctor sighed tiredly. "Lore'lei, take a look at this." Officer Atch'axah came up to him. McCoy extended a tablet toward her and she tucked her long, blue dreadlocks behind her ears as she bent over the screen.

She exclaimed a strange phrase- something from a different language.

/shock, surprise, fear  
>concern, worry, fear, fear-

"What..?" I tried to demand but my fatigue was overtaking me. "What is it?"

"I know this is outside your assigned duty," McCoy continued. "but since you have so much experience on Paxis in this area-."

/weight, weight, weight  
>dread, depression-

"Doctor, please-!" I insisted.

I think I already knew what he was going to say.  
>The centuries of sleep had misplaced it all-<p>

And I was terrified of the memory- that memory now teetering off the high shelf, teetering and about to fall into my arms.

_"You've already managed your _crew_ like a family," I tried to sound reassuring, encouraging as I leaned over him and ran a hand up his chest. "It _would _be different with our child- not so Spartan-." _

_"Yes!" Khan decided, flopping me onto my back and watched me with half-lidded, saucy eyes. "A child, a new, little family of our own-."_

_"Well, here we go, just jump to the objective!" I laughed, teasing him, rolling my eyes._

_He ran kisses to the crook of my neck, nipping at my skin with his teeth, a gentle brush of his tongue, a passionate suckle and nuzzle. _

_I pushed down his pajama trousers, ran my touch tenderly over his hips to his cock- I loved the feeling of that vulnerability, the tender side of him I could hold in my hands and cradle inside myself-_

_But before I could relax, a troubling thought rose up._

_"Khan- what about-," I gasped and giggled as he trailed his lips down to my breasts, his fingers up my inner thighs. "-no really, wait- what may happen to our kids...? How can we know that they'll be-?" _

_"Human?" He finished._

_"-and _safe..."

_"Cerridwen, _I'm_ not human- and neither are you. Our children will be a new race of human...something new- maybe the _true _Superior." _

"Wrenne," the doctor came to my bedside, leaning tiredly, heavily against the side of bed frame.

Such _weight _on his shoulders...how had I never noticed before?

"Did you and- Khan- ever try to conceive?" He asked.

I felt my breathing again, that way it sometimes felt as if I wasn't getting enough air.  
>Hyperventilating.<p>

"You're saying- you're saying I'm pregnant," I covered my face with my hands. "I'm _pregnant_- you're-you're saying I'm-I'm-."

_"I couldn't care less if the kids are human- but how can we be sure they'll be safe? I_won't _have them- fall into being- into being_subjects or-." I closed my eyes over my rising tears.

___"They'll be safe," Khan swore to me with a surety, a passion, a dedication that seemed to strike straight to the center of the earth._

___He took my face in his hands: "...they'll have_ us- _and 72 uncles and aunts to protect them."_

___"But promise me you won't assign them as some type of police for society- some leader- that may be your choice but it might not be theirs- they should be free, even if they are a different- a different kind of human-."_

_"Our children," Khan assured me. "will have the luxury of choosing their_own _path."_

_He smiled and I saw the dream, the happy plan glimmer brightly in his eyes._

_"Your parents were Augments. They fled their government, and_you _were born naturally._You're _fine, aren't you? A fine, albeit_superior _type of human," Khan commented. "Our kids- they'll be the same: a more focused, less obvious talent, like yours but still augmented..._You_are proof that this natural procreation is safer for our kind- you're stable with rare gifts...less susceptible to obsessions and delusions..." Khan thought aloud._

___"As long as our children will be safe," I rose off of the lumpy bed and looked coyly over my shoulder. "And maybe if you can manage to catch me..."_

___Khan gave a playful growl- low and passionate, the kind he knew sent tingling heat to my hips. He leapt off the bed and I laughed as I sprinted from the bedroom._

___Cliché! My inner critic chimed- chasing each other like giddy youngsters-_

_But I didn't care, we were newlyweds and we were free._

_ I darted and weaved around the wooden beams in our tiny apartment, sparing playful glances, receiving his hunter's gaze- hearing Khan purposefully landing his footsteps loud and heavy-_

_I made it out to the front yard and the meadow of daisies._

___Quaker trees littered here and there, I'd cup their trunk in my hand to swing around- and eventually when I swung around Khan was there; he caught me fiercely, covered and gathered me completely, biting that delicate, ticklish skin of my neck._

___"You don't run well enough, tigress," He tenderly licked the red circle of the love-bite. He ran his hands up my thighs, again playing his fingers along the inner side._

_I loved his bites, the feeling of his teeth closing on my skin-_

[...] 

_"I could still escape," I turned his head so I could nibble on his lips. "Come harder, press me flat, shake my bones- take me like a tiger."_

_I pushed him back- of course only because he allowed it- and I ran away, the grass grazing my bare feet._

_I wanted our love-play, I wanted our love-making like we'd done times before- but this- I wanted a__mating._

_A_real_mating._

_"You may have caught me, but you'll never conquer me," I had declared._

__  
><em>"I'd never want you conquered, my beloved.<em> Never_." He had answered_.

[...]

_My world shrunk, focused and narrowed on nothing but pleasure._

_"I want all of you, branded by all of you," I insisted._

_"You are mine," He growled. "And I am yours."*_

It had been an intimate, cherished memory.

But now it was smudged with the fingerprints of that Commanding Officer.

Something told me he hadn't meant to find _that _specifically- he didn't seem like a pervert-

But then again, I didn't really know.

I felt so naked and exposed.

Even more so as I thought of the helpless life within, depending on me.

Spock had slipped into my mind and rifled through my memories.

Anger, frustration, nudity all raged through me to distract me from the more overwhelming, the more upsetting emotions-

"You _are _pregnant, Wrenne," McCoy confirmed. "I don't know how we didn't see the fetus in our initial body scans- when we first revived you- but..."

I placed my hands on my stomach.

"What's- what's- what's-?" I stuttered in panic. "What's going to _happen?" _

My whole body was shaking and shivering, nausea swiftly tingling up my system.

"Are you-are you going to set my _child _in shackles too? T-take my ch-child to an _interrogation? _Keep- keep us-."

I couldn't finish.

_Khan_, I thought desperately, calling out to him in whatever existence death had transferred him to- _Khan, come to me, what will I do? What will I do? Where are you? Oh Khan, pass through death- come to me please, God, please bring him back to me- _

"Wrenne, look at me," McCoy took my shoulders tightly in his hands. His eyes were ringed with echoes of sleepless nights but surety too, and dedication- his authority was reassuring. "_You_ are going to be alright. _Your child_ is going to be alright. You'll both be safe, I _promise _you. He'll come into this world healthy and eager and _innocent_- you know why? Because I _believe you are innocent too._ Khan's crimes are not on you _or _your baby."

I blinked through stinging tears, staring at him blankly.

"..._'He'?" _I repeated in a wispy weak voice.

The doctor nodded, letting go of my shoulders and comfortingly running his hand down my arm.

"You're having a boy," He affirmed. "...at least..._one _boy. You're having twins. We won't know if they're identical or fraternal until I get a pap swab from you. Do you think you're up for pelvic exam?"

"A boy...and a girl?" I stared ahead at the white wall, feeling separate from my body.

"Maybe. They could both be boys. The swab will tell. You're very early in your pregnancy, but we have the technology to determine the sexes." 

Warm tears, _hot _tears burning down my cheeks.

I put my head in my hands, I curled into a ball on my bed, holding the curve of my abdomen, cupping the tender forms inside.

_No, no, no-_

_But yes-! but no-_

We have our children.

But without Khan- there would be no family.

Not the family we had dreamed of that twilight in a Palmyra summer meadow.

Kirk entered the Rec Room expecting to meet a boiling mob-

-but was instead met with silence, stillness.

The crew was scattered around the area, collapsed over tables, curled up on the floor, leaning against the walls-

-and sobbing.

Panicking, whimpering, weeping.

"What-?" A surprised voice exclaimed behind him.

Jim glanced over his shoulder at the gray-haired man standing with him in the doorway.

"Did you see what happened here...?" Kirk hesitated, the man's name escaping him.

"Milton, captain. Officer Milton," He strode into the room. "And no, I didn't manage to witness anything. I was at my post when Mr. Scott called me for help- I came as quickly as I could."

Milton bent over an especially distressed crewman who had his arms thrown over his head as he rocked himself back and forward.

"Yeoman Larkin- what has-?" the officer began but Larkin screamed,

"_Go away! Go away! _I don't know what I'm going to do! Can't you see there's no way out?!"

"No way out," someone else sobbed.

"What do you mean, Larkin?" Kirk grabbed him by the shoulder. "We're fine, we're under stress but this is nothing we haven't managed to survive before!Come out of it, Officer, you'll be fine-." Jim stood and addressed everyone. "We'll _all _be fine-."

"Why don't you just _shut your gob, Jim!_" Scotty had staggered towards him, blood running from a wound in his side. He stumbled and grabbed onto Kirk for balance. "I can't manage the engine. I always thought I understood her and I _do- I do! _But what if I can't? What if this is the time I fail? What-." Scott digressed into hopelessness, tears running down his cheeks.

Jim grabbed onto him and Milton flipped open his comm.

"McCoy," the doctor acknowledged.

"Officer Milton, here, sir. Doctor, what happened to the medical officers sent to attend to Mr. Scott?" Milton demanded urgently. "- and Commander Litige-?"

"They're _there_, Milton- they contacted me less than fifteen minutes ago! They were wrapping Scott's wound and-," Leonard was interrupted by a nurse who had secluded herself in a corner.

"_I _was helping him- _I _was doing my job, but there's no hope- even if we bandage him, he'll die eventually- we're _all _going to _die _eventually-!"

"And what the fuck was I thinking?" Another nurse spoke up. "_'Medical officer'! _I'm no _'medical officer'! _I'll never be good enough- _I'll _never save lives! Dad was right- I'm too stupid, too damn _useless _to let people's lives lie in my hands-!"

"Bones," Kirk took Milton's comm. "get over here immediately- the entire crew is beset by some type of- incapacitating..._despair_- get Spock down here too- I'm going to do what I can."

"_Despair?_" McCoy repeated in shock. "Last I heard, they were shouting and arguing-."

"Come right now," Jim insisted, then realized: "wait- are you with 73?"

"Yes but-."

"Bring her with you," He ordered. "Something tells me her 'abilities' are much stronger and much more dangerous than she told us- but be sure she's got heavy restraints. Kirk out."

"Thank you, Milton," He flipped the comm closed and handed it back to the officer.

"Of course, captain," Milton began carefully surveying the room, stepping carefully between the grief-stricken crewmen. "Forgive me if I'm overstepping my bounds-," he continued. "-but is this _'73' _prisoner...is she really- Singh's wife?"

"Yes!" Litige moaned from where she lied on the floor of the far end of the Rec Room. "She's that bastard's _bitch!_ That mother-fucker who killed my husband! He _killed_ my husband!"

She cried fiercely, nearly howling with grief.

"-G-Gareb..." She hiccupped with sobs. "_My_ Gareb-! He wasn't-wasn't even going to _go _to Section 31- we were just in London for vacation- he just wanted to drop by and say hello to an old friend who worked at the archive- it shouldn't have taken him more than twenty minutes- I'll never be the same-! Why is he gone? Why did that _sadistic _fucker take him from me?!"

Kirk took his own comm and contacted Spock.

"Come _immediately- _and bring the girl, 73. _Now._"

_**{ Continued in Weaving Stage }**_

_*Notes and translations:_

-"[...]" I've abridged this scene here, the full love scene is in the mini chapter: Wabi-Sabi.


	9. Mini Chapter: Wabi-Sabi

_**{ Mini-Chapter: Wabi-Sabi }**_

"A_ natural_ child..."  
>Khan turned from the window and gave me one of his rare expressions of confusion, pensiveness- vulnerability.<p>

"I've...," He hesitated."...always wanted to give someone- someone a _natural_ birth, parents and a family..."

"You've already managed your crew like a family," I tried to sound reassuring, encouraging as I leaned over him and ran a hand up his chest. "It would be different with our child- not so Spartan-."

"Yes!" Khan decided, flopping me onto my back and watched me with half-lidded, saucy eyes. "A child, a new, little family of our own-."

"Well, here we go, just jump to the objective!" I laughed, teasing him, rolling my eyes.

He ran kisses to the crook of my neck, nipping at my skin with his teeth, a gentle brush of his tongue, a passionate suckle and nuzzle.

I pushed down his pajama trousers, ran my touch tenderly over his hips to his cock- I loved the feeling of that vulnerability, the tender side of him I could hold in my hands and cradle inside myself-

But before I could relax, a troubling thought rose up.

"Khan- what about-," I gasped and giggled as he trailed his lips down to my breasts, his fingers up my inner thighs. "-no really, wait- what may happen to our kids...? How can we know that they'll be-?"

"Human?" He finished.

"-and safe..."

"Cerridwen, I'm not _truly _human- and neither are you. Our children will be a new race of human...something new- maybe the true _Superior_."

"I couldn't care less if the kids are human- but how can we be sure they'll be safe? I won't have them- fall into being- into being subjects or-." I closed my eyes over my rising tears.

"They'll be safe," Khan swore to me with a surety, a passion, a dedication that seemed to strike straight to the center of the earth.

He kissed away my tears and took my face in his hands: "...they'll have us- and 72 uncles and aunts to protect them."

"But promise me you won't assign them as some type of police for society- some leader- that may be _your_ choice but it might not be theirs- they should be free, even if they are a different- a different kind of human-."

"Our children," Khan assured me. "will have the luxury of choosing their own path."

He smiled and I saw the dream, the happy plan glimmer brightly in his eyes.

"Your parents were Augments. They fled their government, and you were born naturally. You're fine, aren't you? A fine, albeit _superior _type of human," Khan commented. "Our kids- they'll be the same: a more focused, less obvious talent, like yours but still augmented...You are proof that this natural procreation is safer for our kind- you're stable _and _with rare gifts...less susceptible to obsessions and delusions..." Khan thought aloud.

"As long as our children will be safe," I rose off of the lumpy bed and looked coyly over my shoulder. "And maybe if you can manage to catch me..."

Khan gave a playful growl- low and passionate, the kind he knew sent tingling heat to my hips. He leapt off the bed and I laughed as I sprinted from the bedroom.

Cliché! My inner critic chimed- chasing each other like giddy youngsters-

But I didn't care, we were newlyweds and we were free.

I darted and weaved around the wooden beams in our tiny apartment, sparing playful glances, receiving his hunter's gaze- hearing Khan purposefully landing his footsteps loud and heavy-

I made it out to the front yard and the meadow of daisies.

Quaker trees littered here and there, I'd cup their trunk in my hand to swing around- and eventually when I swung around Khan was there; he caught me fiercely, covered and gathered me completely, biting that delicate, ticklish skin of my neck.

"You don't run well enough, tigress," He tenderly licked the red circle of the love-bite. He ran his hands up my thighs, again playing his fingers along the inner side.

I loved his bites, the feeling of his teeth closing on my skin-

Khan pressed his body against me and I laughed at the sparkling, throbbing feeling from between my legs.

The quaker tree we were leaning against groaned tiredly.

His cock was hard and demanding- I loved that feeling, that pressure against my abdomen, against my sex.

But then there came a sudden rush of self-consciousness-

"While I love that we can kiss in public and make love away from secret closets," I gasped for air, as he heaved me up, my legs apart and knees high- his erection taut and teasing against my moist center- nearly all rational thought vanished from my head-

He was grinding his hips in a rhythm that was maddening-

Khan discarded my blouse, we fumbled with his trousers and untangling my bra from my top- awkward moments that made me giggle.

But that wave of self-consciousness lingered.

"…this-this," I couldn't hold back the hitches and silly, aroused squeaks and gasps, feeling that dizzying high of a rising, building orgasm before he'd even slid his cock inside me. "-this is a little more public than I-."

"Worry, worry, worry, Jānama," He breathed raggedly, exclaiming softly, deeply; caressing my breasts, his mouth closing over my nipple, sucking and pulling my nipple up and erect, running his tongue to guide it up, up- "No one watching..." He started, taking my other breast in his lips before finishing, "nothing but the quaking trees and wabi-sabi* daisies."

I waited for the shyness to pass, washed away by the sensations from my body- from his body.

"I could still escape," I nibbled his bottom lip. "Come harder, press me flat, shake my bones- take me like a tiger."

I pushed him away- of course only because he allowed it- and I ran away, the grass grazing my bare feet.

I wanted our love-play, I wanted our love-making like we'd done times before- but this- I wanted a _mating._

A _real_ mating.

And I could tell he felt the same- a new hunt, a new pleasure added to our intimacy- not just pursuing arousal, but also creation-

We played and chased and dodged and hunted until he couldn't hold back anymore-

He leapt forward, threw his arms tightly around my legs, and brought me down hard to the little forest floor.

I cried out in surprise, gasping and panting on all fours as he greedily pressed his hands against my skin, up my buttocks, up my back, back down- his fingers finding their way and plunging inside my sex.

Another exclamation- from him and me.

"You're so moist, so soft," Khan brushed and nuzzled his face up and down my spine as he twisted his fingers inside me, trailing up to my clit.

"Oh damn, Khan- that-."

"It'll make you come, won't it?" I heard the satisfaction in his voice as he brushed his cock down my buttocks to the right place-. "But once is never enough for you. I'll make you scream, I'll hear that climax scream more than once before I'm done."

"You may have caught me, but you'll never conquer me."

Khan slipped his fingers out and now guided his cock inside me, dragging a sharp breath from my lungs and tearing a groan from his chest.

"I'd_ never_ want you conquered, my beloved. _Never_."

Khan took to me so swiftly, urgently- neither of us could hold back any longer for playing. His hips rocking, pumping, stretching and pulling me, burning inside my vagina.

He eased back and returned harder.

"My-my _favorite_ little place in the world..." He breathed, managing to press a couple fingers inside where we were connected.

Rubbing his cheeks back up my spine, more nuzzling against that crook of my neck.

"Don't stop," I panted, licking my dry lips, digging my nails into the grass and dirt. "Khan- please- I can't stand it anymore- come-."

He powered again inside me, the feeling of fullness intensifying until the peak came and I shook, writhing, throwing my head back and to the side, the rise racking through me- my sex ached as my hips convulsed, tossing so fiercely from side to side that Khan had to grab my buttocks to keep us connected, to keep us balanced.

A mating, a true mating.

My world had shrunk, focused and narrowed on nothing but pleasure.

He thrust harder, his breath and groans so loud and so satisfying-

I felt that small, scratching barb erect from the tip of his cock, cling to the walls inside my sex.

He bellowed softly, hips pounding pumping-

The barb clutched inside me, pulling back hard but never releasing me with each of Khan's retreat.

The pain was a mix of pleasure and some discomfort-

-the splice of lion genetics* ensuring our mating, our coming, our creations-

And then Khan came fiercely too, slumping over me and throwing his arms around my middle, holding and scratching and writhing so wildly- hands scratching up and around, digging in and then softly caressing the folds of my stomach, my breasts-

Closing his teeth tightly, grabbing the back of my neck between his teeth.

As the tremor of pleasure slowly ebbed away, his touch was tender, his mouth soft as he caringly licked the large, red mark he had left, trailing his tongue to the curve of my shoulder and neck-

One last hard bite-

Why did it feel so amazing? The simultaneous real hurt and_ pleasurable_ pain-

"My beloved," Khan murmured against my skin, wet from his kisses and bites.

" Jānama," I sighed.

The barb released as his cock slid out of my sex.

I shuffled and hitched tight in pain- the barb's retraction was always somewhat unpleasant.

He slid out carefully, tenderly.

I turned and lied on my back against the grassy ground, pulling him down over me.

"I'll always love you," I smiled, still out of breath.

"I will love you beyond my life, beyond the grave and death itself, my beloved."

Khan looked down at me so intensely I shivered.

I felt the anxiety rising from his heart.

/worry, anxiety, concern  
>regret, worry, insecure-

"You didn't hurt me," I reassured him, caressing his chest, down his hips, his tight buttocks. "I love that little extra- clutch." I flushed bashfully. "For some reason- the real pain and the pleasurable pain- together, it feels..." I blushed more deeply. "...Don't ever hold it back again. I want _all_ of you, branded by all of you."

Khan laid down on his side, pulling me against him and kissing me passionately, tangling my tongue with his.

"You are mine," He growled after releasing my lips. "And I am yours."

I nodded, cupping his cheek in my hand.

He leaned against my grasp, closing his tired eyes.

I ran my hands through his hair, he lowered his head to lay against my breasts.

I cradled him against my heart, against my breasts.

I felt the cool Palmyra air brush against my skin, pleasingly cold against the moisture of my sex, the remnants of his seed that tingled inside me.

_Life._

First freedom, now life.

More life and freedom for us both in our secluded little cottage of an apartment in Palmyra, New York.

The home Khan had literally built for us. The daisies- the type of flower he had never seen, the flowers that had delighted him so much, the flowers that rose up from our nest among the meadow.

He loved the daisies because of wabi-sabi*, because he had never known imperfection could accentuate beauty.

Our own little decision in our own little meadow for our own little children.

Notes:

*Notes and translations:

-"wabi-sabi": 侘寂, represents a comprehensive Japanese world view on accepting transience and imperfection- that imperfection can make things more beautiful, like the crack in the Liberty Bell. This aesthetic is sometimes described as one of beauty that is "imperfect, impermanent, and incomplete". It is a concept derived from the Buddhist teaching of the three marks of existence

-Lion genetics- male lions have small barbs on their penis to secure the female so the semen can enter more surely. Since Khan is biologically engineered, I figured they'd try to add splices of other animals. I thought it'd be kind of um, really sexy if he had some lion in him...thought about making it tiger, but I worried that would've been too corny.  
>-<p>

FINALLY, am I right? I meant to put a love scene much sooner in the story, but it turned out the story had its own rhythm so I've been following it. Hope this isn't too kinky- again, I'm new to publishing my smut writing, so forgive any amateur faux pas...

Sorry to just tack on the new info on Wrenne's background- not very well done =\ I wanted to present it differently, but oh well. Her parents were Augments from a different country and program than Khan. They managed to escape and make it to America, giving birth to Wrenne naturally, and moving around a lot to avoid certain dangers that followed them. They eventually settled in Wales when Wrenne was ten years old. Her parents died under mysterious circumstances to be revealed later. Again, REALLY sorry to tack this on at the end...very poorly done, sorry...

In case there is any confusion, this scene plops you in a time after Khan, Wrenne, and the crew have escaped from Hayagriva (but HOW? You'll see...). Khan and Wrenne are temporarily living in a small New York state town, Palmyra.

The meadow was inspired by something in my life- I visited Palmyra with my family, and we wandered into a forest/grove of thin, quaker trees and grass- eventually we came upon one of the most beautiful sights I have ever seen in my life: a still meadow flooded with daisies, sunflowers, and tall grass. A lone stag lingered there.

I thought this would be a perfect, romantic place for making love x3


End file.
